


Hebdomas (Carpe Diem)

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Author Is Sleep Deprived AGAIN, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Dorks, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Popular Boy trope, Seven Days AU, Slice of Life, based on another work (LINKED)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has had a string of girlfriends. The reason? To them, he looks like a prince. But he is not a prince, and they get disappointed quickly. In fact, he’s rather fed up with the superficial dating, too.<br/>Dean, a year younger, will go out with anyone who asks him first on Monday morning, but break up on that week’s Sunday at the latest. The reason? He’ll give anyone the chance to take his heart, but no one succeeds.<br/>Castiel asks him out on a whim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introitus (Monday, Part One)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zonya35](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zonya35/gifts), [PrairieBirdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieBirdie/gifts), [Tisha_Wyman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tisha_Wyman/gifts), [lizerd70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizerd70/gifts).



> me fangirling over Seven Days. D:  
> comments and kudos are appreciated.

The open sky was inviting to relax. Even though blue might be considered a cold colour, today’s sky was promising a lovely day, and Castiel was glad for it because a rainy Monday was just  _ not  _ the way to start the week.

 

Fluffy white clouds remind Castiel of the adorable Maltese puppies he had been allowed to watch (not yet to pet, the mother was viciously protective) last weekend at Charlie’s.

 

Being a healthy seventeen-year-old male, he was supposed to be interested in - well. Girls. Liking someone would likely start with looking at her face, first, to be then followed by his gaze dropping either to her legs or her chest. Then they’d get to know each other, and her character would either be compatible with his or not. That’s his theory.

 

Walking towards class, he noticed two girls looking and then waving at him. Turning around it became obvious they were really waving at him, so he smiled and waved back, hoping they would not notice his slight irritation. “He’s _sooo cute_ ,” he heard one of them gush with barely concealed giggling, and the other responded, “I _know_ , he’s adorable!” as they walked away.

Castiel huffed. Sure, it felt nice, but it was rather pointless to be complemented since he was judged by his appearance. At least, he knew that not only males could be superficial like that.

 

When puberty hit and the first awkward months of unfortunately timed boners, exploding zits and general bitchiness subsided; when Castiel really started to change from a child to a growing young man, he was glad that the bad part of puberty seemed to avoid him. Quite a few girls came onto him, even some of those from high school. The only saving grace had been that his vocal chords did nothing to hide his age, and even when one girl from senior pouted and called him jailbait, he did not think too much of it. Charlie had been furious, though and had demanded an apology. The senior had shoved Charlie and called Castiel a twink not worth her time.

 

But those encounters were few and far between, so they were quickly forgotten. Charlie had proved herself a great friend, keeping Castiel close to the ground and rooting out any vanity sneaking into his demeanour. Not that he was prone to be conceited, but it is easy to fall into that trap when girls keep swooning and blushing and giggling, starting barely hidden fights as to who is allowed to sit next to him during lunch.

 

When finally one girl dared to ask him out, and Castiel had been fourteen years, seven months and four days old then, he was proud of being a boyfriend. He had expected a bit more, but it had been two beautiful weeks of hand-holding, doing their homework on the floor and some few kisses. But rather soon, she was a little more distanced, and it seemed that no matter what Castiel did, it was wrong.

 

And so a chain of girlfriends started. They liked what they saw, but getting to know him, well. Their disappointment at Castiel not being the prince they thought he would be became evident rather quickly. It was alright, mostly, as Castiel himself never really was too serious. But he was getting more and more annoyed with their expectations not even allowing him to yawn in public, like, what the eff?

 

“Castiel, those girls do not like you as a person, they only like what they see,” Charlie had told him. It had not been their first quarrel, but their first fight. Even then it hadn’t been spectacular, just Castiel being pissed at Charlie for pointing out the obvious, but unwelcomed truth and her, being the good friend that she is, not allowing him to ignore any of it.

 

The girls, from 2-A he thought, turned around and he winked at them. Their faces flushed cherry-red and they rushed towards the door, giggling.

“Cas, stop being such a flirty brat. If you go on like that, your girlfriend will break up with you pretty soon,” Charlie joked, poking his ribs with her pointy excuse of an elbow.

“Uh, yeah. She actually did already.” Castiel had developed this habit or rubbing his neck when he was uncomfortable, albeit Charlie could read him like an open book even without these little quirks, “Like, yesterday.”

When the silence from his left became too much, he continued with a snappish, “What?” and then, “She told me that I wasn’t the person she thought I was.”

 

Charlie was silent for a few more seconds, adding a quiet, “Didn’t I tell you so? Still, I am sorry, Cas,” but Castiel snorted. Sure, he had like Rhonda, and was certain he’d be able to sincerely like her in his own time, but he felt entitled to be just a little bit mean.

“It’s her own fault for assuming who I am, asking me out when we hadn’t even had a proper convo before. They’re all the same. They ask me out and then get all disappointed when I’m not how they expect me to be.” He saw the smack coming, but would not evade it. Charlie would never hit him, for real, but he knew why she did now.

“Don’t be such a bitch. You cannot blame them, not entirely. It’s practically a scam, the huge gap between your outer appearance and your personality. When you swim, you look beautiful, even I appreciate your form and I know how much of an idiot you are.”

Charlie looked up and saw her friend side-eyeing her with an absolute lack of understanding clearly written all over his face and his head tilted slightly to the left.

“Well, yeah, there is this - uh, air of stoicism about you when you glide through the water. And then there’s that stupid face of yours, worse so when you smile when you make good time, which makes you seem just like a prince those naive girls are fantasising about. I mean, I get it, it’s not hard to understand. You’re a nice guy, good looking even to me, and not a single girl has ever had reason to talk bad of you afterwards. It just,” Charlie puffs up her cheeks, frustrated for the lack of words, “It’s just that, while you certainly do not hide who you are, you sure as hell do not proudly present your fangirling side to them so it’s little wonder they get weirded out. Like. Argh, I don’t know. Wanna hit the ice-cream store later? It’s my treat, you heart-broken ass.”

Laughing, Castiel imitated Charlie and slung his arm around her waist. At first, there has been quite the gossip, as school kids are prone to when a girl and boy are rarely seen apart, but when Charlie and Rachel made out in the cafeteria, the gossip subsided immediately. Some girlfriends of Castiel had been cautious, some jealous, but not after the Rachel-incident. They continued walking towards their classroom, and the only sound in their vicinity was the flapping of Charlie’s skirt against the wind.

 

Miss Moseley had fought tooth and nail and, after years, finally had succeeded: Saint Josephine’s had opened its doors to boys just two years prior to Castiel enrolling into it. Few reminders had remained, school uniforms being one of them.

The girl’s uniform consisted of a tartan knee-length skirt in the school’s colours: red and black on green ground, a white blouse with two black stripes at the cuffs, hemline and collar. For official occasions, the otherwise optional black tie and a double-breasted black blazer completed the outfit. When the school went co-ed, so did the school uniform and girls could opt for their traditional skirt or the male version consisting of tartan slacks, white dress shirt, mandatory black tie and a black blazer for boys.

Another reminder was that most of these girls had kind of been sheltered throughout their life, the larger part of them having been in elevator system of Saint Josephine’s early education from kindergarten onwards. Sure, they’ve had access to the internet and it's inevitable source or filth, but their parents had taken great care in grooming them into ladies, as well.

Which, in part at least, is the reason for Castiel’s dilemma. The female students were pampered, in comparison to other co-ed schools at least, and would have unusually high expectations for boys. In short, they were expecting boys to be beyond perfect, which, obviously, is impossible for anyone.

So while the girls are happy to squeal in barely subdued voices at Castiel’s (poor) attempt at honing his Bad Boy image, at the same time they expected him to be a perfect Prince, with white roses blooming and violins fiddling in the background and stuff like that. Stuff that wasn’t Castiel.

 

The day had been rather uneventful, and it was the last break before lunch. Jo, Raphael, Victor, Anna, Charlie and Castiel were sitting in the school’s garden in amiable silence until Victor pulled out a pamphlet of their favourite pizza parlour and asked, “How about we order pizza for lunch break?” which was accepted happily. Ordering at Marco’s had become a weekly habit, and Castiel could practically see the cashier - Adalberto - roll his eyes at their antics to “please deliver exactly at 1 PM, our break is only one hour long” as they did every time they ordered. Adalberto had a gruff appearance but was of the sweetest disposition, more often than not adding some sweets free of charge or adding a load of cheese or some extra bits to their food. They thanked him with mouth-to-mouth propaganda and giving as much of tips as they could afford.

 

Castiel leaned back, happy to close his eyes and let his inner cat uncoil in the rays of the sun when he overheard two girls walking by. “Dean’s not here yet,” the blonde one said, “I guess he really won’t come to school today.”

“Do you think he’s ill? I hope he is not ill,” her friend, a tiny thing with black locks and huge eyes replied.

“I hope so too. I wanted to ask him today.”

“What? Really? Too bad. You can try next week, though,” the black haired girl replied with a smile that looked genuine. She eyed Castiel’s group of friends, whispered something to her friend and they upped their speed.

 

“Huh, they’re right, Dean hasn’t been to class today,” Raphael confirmed.

“He’s a first year right?” Castiel turned his head to Raphael,”I think you mentioned you’re classmates, yeah?”

Raphael nodded, and sat up to look at Castiel directly - way too well behaved, that one. “Yep. He’s in the swimming club too, right? Are you close?”

“Not at all. We know each other, like, from seeing only. He doesn't’ really show up most of the time to practice so I think we haven’t spoken much more than a few sentences.”

Charlie imploded her chewing gum loudly, earning a scornful look from Anna and returning a sheepish smile. “What was blondie talking about, asking him next week? Like, she can ask him the next  _ time  _ she sees him, right?” He looked in the general direction of the girls, and Castiel wondered for the first time if perhaps the reason Jo never went out with a boy was because she liked girls.

“Yeah, but today is Monday, right?” Raphael lowered his voice and leaned forward, and the circle of friends immediately moved closer together, the promising thrill of gossip coming from Raphael, of all people, was juicy.

“It’s Monday, what of it?”

  
“It’s the day he’ll definitively say ‘Yes’ to the first person asking him out,” Raphael replies. 


	2. Carpe Diem (Monday, Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To what?” Anna and Charlie say at the same time, but before Raphael could continue, Jo does: “Yeah, and only to the first one asking him out on Monday. And at the end of the week, he’ll tell them exactly this: ‘I like you as a friend, but cannot see myself falling in love with you. Let’s break up.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to switch to present tense and have hopefully changed everything. if you notice errors, sorry. I'm thankful for you pointing them out though :)

Raphael’s tone is clear of any implication of what that means other than that it is something desired by, so it seems, a lot of people.

“To _what_?” Anna and Charlie say at the same time, but before Raphael could continue, Jo does: “Yeah, and only to the first one asking him out on Monday. And at the end of the week, he’ll tell them exactly this: ‘I like you as a friend, but cannot see myself falling in love with you. Let’s break up.’”

Raphael’ looks apologetic, “Ah, I’m so sorry, Jo. I just remembered. It was not said with intent to hurt you.”

Jo smiles, “Yup, I went out with him exactly for one week in April last year. Raph, stop feeling guilty, it’s fine. It felt like I had hit the jackpot back then and he’s genuinely nice.”

The bell rings and they get up to hurry back to their classes.

“So, what, he get’s asked every Monday and breaks up on the weekend? Regular guys like me will never understand people who are that popular,” Victor muses. “What kind of person is he, anyway?”

“He’s handsome, obviously,” Castiel replies nonchalantly.

Dean indeed is, by all accounts, handsome. Sun-kissed skin, green eyes and a boyish smile that holds the promise of prominent features in age. Castiel mentally shakes his head. Sure, Dean is handsome, but he knows nothing of his character except that Dean does not show up to practice on a regular basis.

“Yeah, but what _kind_ of guy is he?” Victor presses, however the subject is dropped in favour of Mr. Adler entering the classroom. Castiel shrugs and turns around, facing the room’s front where Adler get’s ready to shower them with his version of truth and knowledge.

Mr. Adler’s lesson is interesting enough, but he has this habit of speaking just a teensy bit too much about his own opinion on medieval warmongering and correlation to religion, so when he finally closes the book, claps his hands and says, “See you next time”, Castiel jumps up and starts walking towards the door.

“Mr. Novak, I see you can hardly await the end of my class. Was it of so little interest to you?” Mr. Adler’s voice is silky smooth but the sneer still obvious. Castiel stops short, turns around and walks back to properly stand before the balding man. “No, Sir,” he answers quickly, grinning, “It’s just that my friends and I have ordered pizza and I am to pick it up. You have yourself taught us the importance of being punctual, and we’re expecting the delivery at one o’clock precisely. Beg you would excuse me.” And with that, he turns around and leaves the room, but not before high-fiving Charlie when passing her desk.

 

The days are getting warmer and warmer. Castiel can almost smell the sweet promise of summer, freshly cut grass and birds chirping in the trees, bees humming and what not. (He apologises mentally to the bees). Keeping in the shadow, he is leaning against the still cool wall, waiting for the delivery car.

 _“Regular guys like me will never understand people who are that popular. What kind of person is he anyway?_ ,” Victor had mused, and Castiel felt that his talk with Charlie might have felt similar but was in a completely different context. He’s never really noticed the other boy, but right now he found himself wondering at what kind of person Dean was; going out with anyone who’d give him the time of time of a week could very easily be taken as a sign of.. well. He hears a car approach and starts fiddling for his wallet, but the car that stops in front of the school gates is not the green-striped white delivery car, but some kind of old bronze beast. The door opens and Dean exits, tie askew. He leans into the car, smiling and replying to something the driver said. Castiel can only just so make out the ample dark brown locks of a woman, likely older by a few years, before the car speeds away.

“Mornin’, Castiel.” Dean greets with a smile. Castiel looks straight at him, then follows the path of the car. “Was that your girlfriend for the week? She looks older than twenty.”

Immediately, he chastises himself mentally with a supportive _“Shut up, Castiel. How would it make sense for her to drive him to school if they broke up?”_

Dean snorts. “You’re not very observant, are you?” But his smile is genuine and warm and only for Castiel. Castiel looks down at his feet, kicking a small stone away.

“Apparently not,” he thinks but doesn’t reply.

 

“So, why are you outside of school? Skipping class, are we?” Dean teases, his voice gentle and at the same time just as soft as it is rough, and Castiel swears he can hear how the words passing through lips form a mirthful smile.

He decidedly does not look up, instead, he remembers Jo’s confession on their way back to class: _“One week is long enough for a dream. Dean is perfectly charming.”_ And seeing the disbelief on her friends face, continued “ _The reason why he remains popular despite ending relationships abruptly is that, once he says yes, he is sincere and will do absolutely everything to make you happy. Have you noticed that_ no-one _is talking behind his back?”_

“So,” Castiel looks straight ahead, not daring to look up, “have you been asked out today yet?”

“Hm? No, not yet. I just arrived, you know.”

“Ah. So it’s going to start soon, huh. I heard a girl already waiting for you to show up and I’m sure others are waiting too.” Castiel wonders why he would elaborate that, but then a thought strikes him.

 

 _“It’s the day he’ll definitively say ‘Yes’ to the first person asking him out.”_ Raphael's words hold a weight to them that they had not had before.

Twisting to his left, he looks at Dean and then quickly to the street again.

“But is it true? You Really say Yes to anyone as long as they ask first? Even if they’re not your type?”

Castiel thought he saw Dean’s jaw tighten just a bit at what could be taken as an implication of being easy but at him continuing his stupid question, Dean relaxes almost immediately and, with an amused look, he shoots back, “My type? How would I know if someone is my type just by looking at them. They might look cute and be cruel, they might look homely and be the sweetest.”

“Ah, yes, but I meant - isn’t there a, uh, a type of appearance you prefer? Like, big eyes or locks or whatever,” Castiel continues looking ahead, hoping for the damned delivery car to finally show up.

 

“If you put it that way, I’d say I like the open-faced type. Big eyes are a thing, but I’m a goner for smiles. High cheekbones are a bonus, too. Does this count as a type? Then you’d be my type, I guess.” Dean is grinning by the end, and Castiel can feel his ears turning pink.

_“It’s the day he’ll definitively say ‘Yes’ to the first person asking him out.”_

Castiel inhales, and slowly rises to stand next to Dean. “I see. So how about it, then? Why don't you go out with me?”

 

Before Dean can reply, Adalberto, having arrived unnoticed (which, in itself is a wonder because his car is even more a loud piece of crap than Charlie’s yellow screeching piece of crap), honks. Startled, Castiel tears his gaze away from Dean and starts patting his pockets only to notice he has, in fact, forgotten his wallet. A groan escapes his throat, Charlie will use him as a footstool for weeks.

In the time it takes Castiel to imagine the worst-case scenario of a hungry Charlie going Godzilla on his ass, Dean has quickly walked over to the car, took the pizza boxes and paid. The “ _Airhead_ ” was muttered and followed by a stuck out tongue, and Castiel can feel himself blushing again.   
“I’m sorry, I left my wallet in class. I’ll pay you back immediately,” Castiel quickly catches up to Dean who is walking towards the school building at a brisk pace.

“Nah, it’s fine, rush over to your pack before the pizzas get cold. I have to get to Mosely. See you later.” And with that, Castiel finds himself standing in the Aula with his arms full of hot, steaming pizza and feeling a bit lost. He could always repay Dean during swimming practise, because he does show up every now and then, or ask Raphael or any of the girls if they knew in which class Dean attends.

Their last period is art, and when Castiel’s class returns to their room to put away their utensils, Dean is waiting next to the door, smiling, and ignoring the murmur around.

“Ah, yes. Thanks for earlier,” Castiel quickly fishes out the money for the pizzas and holds the bank notes in his outstretched hand.

 

“Thank you? But I told you it’s fine, didn’t I?” Dean quickly folds the notes and crams them back into Castiel’s breast pocket. “So, I was wondering if we could walk home together.”

“Uh.” _Way to go, boy._

“You got plans? That’s fi-”

“No I don’t have plans, but don’t _you_ have plans? Club activities?”

Dean actually looks embarrassed. “Right?” Castiel presses, “You haven’t been in weeks and it’s a waste for you to keep skipping.”

“Uh, Yes… I guess. You do have a cell phone, right?”

Castiel squints, hard. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m totally not.”

“Yes, you totally are.”

“Am not.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, uh, yeah. Cool. Let’s exchange numbers, yeah?”

“Stop changing the…,” Castiel huffs, and at the unmistakable I-won-na-na-na-naa-na-smile Dean beams at him, only continues, “You’re insufferable. Alright, here, key it in.” While Dean taps in his name and sends a message to himself, Castiel wonders if Dean would always go this easy about making friends.

“I heard the other red-head, Charlene?, and Anna call you Cassie. Is it cool to call you Cas instead of Cassie? There was a girl, and her name was Cassie so… it’s kind of uncomfortable to use the same name.”

“Sure. I dislike the nickname anyway. And it’s Charlie. Call her Charlene and she’ll do unspeakable things to you.”

Castiel does notice the name. It’s not easy to not ask about this Cassie and her impact on Dean. If she’d been a week-long fling, her name certainly wouldn't affect Dean in such a way, would it?

Dean is looking at him, expectantly. Cas stares back. He is unbeaten at staring, thankyouverymuch.

Dean snorts and takes the other boys hand and plops the phone back into Cas’ hand. Turning around and walking backwards like the bampot that he is, he calls “Cas, see you tomorrow then, yeah?”

“Go to club practise, will you,” is all that Castiel manages to reply. Dean waves and, doing a 180 in mid-step, continues to walk in the general direction of the teachers’ lounge and sporting area.

Arriving at the gates, Charlie and her yellow excuse of a car are already waiting. “Sooo, Cassie, what did Dean Winchester want from you?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel frowns, fumbling with the seat belt and hoping he isn’t blushing.

He really doesn’t know. All of a sudden, the dude wants to walk home together and exchange numbers? Who _does_ that? The progress of friendship has always been slow for Castiel, so the storm on two legs that is named Dean Winchester is a bit weird. Beautiful, but weird.

By now, Charlie is in the middle of babbling about some new game or the other, and while Castiel feels bad for having missed the first part of her rant on why _these_ cards are way more worth then _those_ cards, he quickly catches up and they make plans to organise an evening with their friends.

It is only later in the evening, when his sister is sobbing pathetically into a pillow watching some drama about a love-triangle set in medieval Korea. He has, upon the promise of torture and continuous reanimation, made her promise to not tell anyone about his guilty pleasure, but truth be told, he is keeping his tears at bay just so. It’s just between the court lady Han crying at the fake King’s fake death bed and the parallel storyline of the plotted fake death of the fake King’s brother (Telenovelas are nothing in comparison!), that he remembers the way Dean had beamed at him after Castiel had asked, “Why don't you go out with me?”

Thank fuck both Meg and him have this awful habit of hiding their faces into a pillow when they watch TV with an intense scene. Or cannot handle real life.

Damn.

It’s Monday, and Dean had just arrived at school.

Dean hadn’t been asked out yet.

 

_“It’s the day he’ll definitively say ‘Yes’ to the first person asking him out.”_

  
Dean could not have taken him seriously, could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my! oh me! DID HE NOW?
> 
> also, I love me some J or K Dorama. it's slow-paced, and predictable, and just frikken adorable. but I don't sob. ever.


	3. Primus, Ante Meridiem (Tuesday Morning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossing his arms behind his head, Dean stares at the poster above his bed. He has no idea what to expect of the week to come. Every time, he would feel somewhat hopeful that this time, it would work out, that his time he would start to feel.  
> A week might be too short to get to know someone.  
> But a week is always enough for Cassie to calm down.

The buzzing is barely audible, but Dean has always been a light sleeper. The display, way too bright in the darkness of his room even when set to minimum, shows upon unlocking the screen a greenish text and _[Cassie R. 02 Message(s)]_ burns into his irides.

He knows what this means, he recalls her being a whirlwind; always keeping him afloat.

“I like you,” she had said, and her lips were soft and tasted of cherries. They had dated, and broken if off soon after, and every time she broke off with her new boyfriend, she’d get back to Dean. To relax. “Breaking up with them is no big deal,” she had said, and leaned in just _so_ , he could feel her chest pressing into his back, “But you’re so sweet. You like me, don’t you?”

 The buzzing continues. It’s almost two in the morning. When they were dating, or after, she would always call at the most random time during the night. And he would always pick up.

“Hello?”

“Why didn’t you pick up the first time? Come over to Ben's and pick _me_ up, will you?”

“No. I was single yesterday, so it was okay, but I’m not anymore. I won’t meet you alone.”

“What? Again?” Dean never is certain whether her laugh is cruel or not, but he prefers to see it in a positive light. “You’re going to break up within the next couple of days anyway. What kind of person is it this time?”

His stomach churns a little at that, but he clenches his jaw, wills himself to stay cool.

“Same school. A year older.”

“Ah. Cute?”

“Rather than cute, I’d say…,” Dean looks up, remembering the gracefulness with which Castiel glides through the water, the way droplets are adorning his face like diamonds when he breaks through the water and how, one single time, Dean witnessed the sun illuminating him and the boy's’ eyes were endless blue pools of mystery, and his only thought is that Castiel is utterly...

“Beautiful. Really beautiful.”

“More so than I am?” he can hear the tease in her voice, but the usual gentleness is missing. Her voice has a neutral tone, though.  
“I cannot compare you two. It’s early in the morning and I need to get to school today, on time. Take a cab, get home safe. Good night.”

“Good night Dean, see you on the weekend.” Now, her voice has this edge he really, really, really disliked.

Dean drops his phone next to his pillow, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples. That last sentence was mean, but so very close to the truth. It is always like this, one minute he misses her and the other he dislikes her way of talking to him, in fact, her character entirely.

Onwards to good thoughts, then. He had been surprised at Castiel asking him out, but not only that. What is surprising is Castiel _being_ single, seeing that the guy is popular among students of both genders, and liked by pretty much all teachers.

Crossing his arms behind his head, Dean stares at the poster above his bed. He has no idea what to expect from the week to come. Every time, he would feel somewhat hopeful that this time, it would work out, that his time he would start to feel.

A week might be too short to get to know someone.

But a week is always enough for Cassie to calm down.

What a mess.

 

* * *

 

He wakes again long before his alarm goes off, some three hours later, and sends a “Good Morning” message to Castiel. It has become a habit of his, but he would prefer to be able to send it to the same person every morning, not only for a couple of days.

His phone vibrates, and a beep informs him of a received message. [ _Castiel Novak: 01 message(s)_ ]. Unlocking his phone, he taps on the notification icon, never in his life having felt this anxious to tap at a bubble.

> **I hate you for waking me up this early in the morning.**

So, not a morning person then. Kind of adorable.

This time, his ringtone alerts him to an incoming call.

He accepts the call, but before he can manage a precarious, “Hello?”, Cas’ voice, still hoarse with sleep, rumbles like distant thunder. “Are you an idiot? You’re an assbutt idiot, right?”

Dean manages to subdue his laughter, but his stupid grin must have remained obvious when he replies, “Yes, I’m an idiot, sorry.”

It doesn't help that Dean can imagine the scowl Cas must be sporting when he just about growls, “If you want me to take your apology serious, you should stop laughing. I cannot get back to sleep now. Make it up to me.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“I don’t know. Right now I’m pissed enough I’d punch you.”

“I see. How about I come over and you can punch me, then, huh?”

The ensuing silence is making Dean nervous. Castiel is a far cry from being aggressive, but he is muscular and certainly can pack a punch. Or several. Darn.  
“Uh, Cas, this is kinda scary. You wouldn’t really punch me, would you?”

“Shut up, you early morning monster assbutt. I decided how you will make it up to me. You’ll come to practise today, understood? Okay. Goodbye, Dean.” And with that, the only sound in Dean's room is the beeping of the disconnected line and, inside of him, the blood rushing through his head as his heart continues beating against his ribcage.

The next day at school is rather boring and so inviting to go as soon as it's finished, but Dean would not risk the wrath of Castiel, so he shows up to practise. Castiel nods, but otherwise shows no inclination to talk. Dean starts warming up and stretches.

When it is s the third year’s turn to swim, Castiel jumps into the water with such gracefulness and ease, Dean cannot help but keep his breath. Elegance and power propelling the long, smooth lines of Castiel's lithe body forward, touching the opposite pool wall and twisting himself smoothly, pushing himself back and working his way through the water with such ease it is as if he is flying.

The sight of Castiel shaking his head like a dog immediately after emerging should not make Dean so. So. Gooey inside. Neither when said boy expectantly looks up to Mr. Singer. “Well done boy, you’ve saved another two point three seconds. Keep up the good work.”

Victor whoops and splashes Castiel, and a quick but dirty water fight takes place for all of the five seconds it takes Bobby Singer to whip out his whistle.

“Idjits, you wanna kill someone makin’ ‘em slip, eh? C’mere, mop up this mess. Now!” the bearded man bellows, but Dean knows the man likes to hide his smile behind his whiskers.

A sharp whistle blow followed by, “Second years, to your places!” tears Dean from his reverie and he briskly walks over to the pool’s edge.

He can feel Castiel watch him, his gaze unwavering and steady, and feels way too vulnerable. He is confident in his body, he is confident in his skill to appear stronger and less insecure than he is. But having Castiel watch him as if he is the only one in the vicinity is unnerving, to say the least. He manages to somehow get into the water without plummeting into it like a drunk duck and begins his rounds.

Apparently, he hadn't lost too much of his time, as Singer begrudgingly tells him when he emerges from the water. Goosebumps run over his skin as the wind, albeit soft, quickly cools the thin film of water clinging to his skin. He shivers, but it felt so good. He remembers why he had enrolled at first, not because of the girls on the team, like so many thought (although co-ed rules), but because he had seen a second-year wind himself through the water as if it is his second nature. He had learnt later, that this student had been Castiel.

So, yes, the boy he later learnt to be Castiel might have been the incentive for Dean to enlist to the club.He can appreciate beauty for what it is in itself aesthetic side.

Dean had for the longest time thought Castiel looked beautiful when he swam. But that changed today.

Because today, Castiel's smile is directed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for Zonya35 for pointing out the second link (Friday-Sunday) wasn't live, I rectified that :)


	4. Primus, Post Meridiem (Tuesday Afternoon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “... Are- are we like, supposed to be dating now?” 
> 
> Dean's reply is swift and delivered with a shy smile. “Of course.” 
> 
> Castiel coughs. “Alright. Then, uh. Well.” Smile, you idiot.

The handles above them clink with the train moving, the only real sound as other travellers were sparse.

“Wait, wasn’t that your stop?” Castiel remembers that Dean told him he lived near the city theatre.

He finds Dean looking away and down. The reply is a simple “Yes,” with no explanation or any indication that one is to follow.

Still, it bugs Castiel so he prods, “Why are you still sitting here then?”

“I thought I’d accompany you to your station. Why, should I leave you be?” Dean is fidgeting in his seat, but would not look at Castiel.

“Why?”

Finally, Dean _looks_ at him and exhales through pouted lips, then looks down again.

“Well. I thought we could spend more time together.”

Dumbfounded, Castiel stares. Now he feels like fidgeting in his seat. Crossing his ankles, he leans back and aligns his neck to the headrest, turning to face Dean.

“So.. uh, let me ask…” But then Dean _looks_ at him, and the sun rays hit him just right, and Castiel could swear the freckled skin glows. _Calm down_ , he chastises himself. _He closed his eyes because the sun is blinding him, not because he wants to be kissed. Right_?

“... Are- are we like, supposed to be dating now?”

Dean cracks one eye open and his reply is swift and delivered with a shy smile. “Of course.”

Castiel coughs. “Alright. Then, uh. Well.” _Smile, you idiot._  
“Well, then I’ll do my best to enjoy our time together. Come on, let’s go.”

And just like that, he stands up and presses the button for the door, partly turning around to Dean, “You coming or what?”

“But, this is like four stations aways from your place?”

“Correct, and it’s the station nearest to the mall. Come on, if we’re dating, we ought to go on a date, right?”

“What? Cas, wait. _What_?”

“I have to use the time we have carefully, it’s already Tuesday. So,” quickly counting on his fingers Cas misses the disbelief crossing Dean’s features, “Only five days left, at most. Come on, let’s check ou-”

Dean touches his shoulder, and he decidedly does not look too happy, “It’s not like that, wait.”

Sliding his hands in his trousers pockets, Castiel tilts his head in what he hopes is natural. He does not aim to act cute, but Charlie told him he’s melting ice caps with that look if he plays it right.. “Aw come on, don't tell me you won’t do the standard procedure with me because I'm a guy.”

“Standard? There is no _standard_ , okay?” Dean feels irritation crawl just below his skin, like this is a game to Castiel. Perhaps it is, but it certainly is not to Dean.

“Great, let’s go eat, I’m starving and craving fried rice. Yamato has a great menu, let’s go,” Castiel answers and is already walking away.

Dean's irritation grows, and his immediate thought is he should call it off right now, but before he can open his mouth to tell Cas, “Sorry, we’re not compatible after all,” the other male is standing right in front of him again, with an air of barely concealed glee Dean would have, in another situation, found endearing.

“What’s wrong? Hurry up,” and just like that Cas has taken a hold of Dean's hand and gently, but decidedly, pulls him along.

 

Dean had thought Castiel refined, but that boy can pig out like his life depends on it. He actually _makes love_ to food. Dean feels a slight blush creeping up his neck and wills it down.  
“You don't like fried stuff?” Dean looks up and he can feel the question mark on his face easily translate to a “What?” enough that Cas scoff, shovel another bite (or two) into his mouth and lean forward. “You’ve been quiet the entire time. I dislike that, okay? You’re obviously unhappy about something but keep quiet and go along with what I want.”

Dean slurps his noodles as quietly as possible and swallows. “You don't like it when people just go along with what you want?”

“Absolutely. I hate it. Because it’s no fun if I’m the only one enjoying myself, what's the point in that?”

Hmm-ing, Dean nods. After a beat, he glances at Cas who is happily inhaling his second helping. “How about we go to the comic store. I haven't been in a while.”

Castiel beams at him, “Sure, let’s go.” and continues stuffing his face.

 

Watching Castiel, Dean had always thought him stoic and more often than not heard girls and some guys fawning over the young man. It is refreshing to see him for real, though, eating to his heart's content and going full-blown nerdy on the newest continuation of this comic or that one, or playing with an action figure, and, in fact, being an adorable embarrassing mess on two legs.

Cas treats Dean to his newest comic (“As thanks for the pizza, you know.”) and they spend some more time walking through the mall. What makes it strange is that Dean finds it gradually harder to keep his eyes away from Cas. The other boy is a lively package of sarcasm, horrible puns and vast knowledge of the seemingly most uninteresting topics but can weave them into a conversation and never sound patronising.

Dean relaxes more and more, and soon he has forgotten why he had been irritated at Castiel in the first place. It had been a simple misunderstanding. They’re getting to know each other.

For a couple of seconds, he second-guessed his decision to always break it off after a week at most. But he decides that he was correct to do so, after all. He had not once felt so much at ease after six days then how he felt with Castiel during one afternoon. Certainly he had not missed out. If there would have been someone he felt so much at ease at, he would have known by Sunday. He hadn’t, so far.

Right. Sunday. Sunday is still five days away, so Dean decides to not spend any more time thinking about what might or might not happen.

He must have been too quiet for too long because his vision is filled with Castiel. “Earth to Dean. Wanna watch a movie?”

So, here they are. Sure, it’s the theatre, and the silver screen is flashing in what very likely is a rather interesting movie but.

But.

 _But_ there is this sudden weight on Dean’s right shoulder that is topped off with some serious bed-head and a snoozing Castiel.

It’s weird enough to sit so near to each other with only one armrest in between and not being friends but not strangers either, but still too much of strangers to being friends and - and - Dean’s freakout is just about to go down all whirlpool-like, and he can feel his palms getting sweaty and how is this his life?

He notices the slowly descend of Cas’ drink from the boy’s gradually relaxing grip and catches it in time. The movie hall is almost empty, apparently Tuesdays are not popular in cinema culture.

Which, Dean figures, is an excellent excuse to sneakily lean onto Castiel's head, just to try it.

Apparently, even the best movie in the world holds no power against the effectiveness of a kitten curled up next to you.

  
Dean falls asleep with a hint of goosebumps running along his spine thanks to warm puffs of air fanning against his neck.


	5. Secundus (Wednesday)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas would like to think that he is a good person, mostly.
> 
> But there is Dean with his stupidly good looking face and those amazing reflexes, even if he constantly keeps skipping club activities like it’s no big deal. 
> 
> Not to mention that he has a different girlfriend every week. 
> 
> Willful. And arrogant, easy even, maybe. And lazy. 
> 
> That’s the impression he gives to people who don’t know him, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written half dead, apologies for the late update. I had a crappy week filled with heartbreak and stuff.

Castiel likes to sit in a park, or at a café and watch people.

What he does not like are crowded places.

 

Rush hour in the metro before school’s got to be the worst. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling that way. Perhaps later, when he is a tax-paying adult? Unlikely.

Readjusting his messenger bag, he notices his tie is backwards. Again. Shrugging mentally, he refuses to acknowledge this fact any more than he did allow to acknowledge the buzzing near his butt while being squashed next to a very stark perfumed lady on the train.

The phone buzzes again and Dean, apparently, is persistent.

“Morning.”

“Hmmm-mrnin’.”

“You really are not a morning person, are you,” Dean, apparently, is also easily amused by Cas’ anti-morning-persona. “Where are you?”

“The station.” Castiel yawns rather than answers.

“Yeah. Which one, sleepyhead?”

Cas likes it when he can hear the smile in someone’s voice.

“I’m changing at Stephens. Why?”

“Cool. I’m next to the ticket place. See you in a bit, bye.” With that Dean hangs up.

Castiel still is nowhere near being fully awake, so it takes a few seconds for him to process what has actually happened and by then, he has the ticket office in sight.

And Dean really is waiting.

With two girls happily chatting with him.

Cas would like to think that he is a good person, mostly.

But there is Dean with his stupidly good looking face and those amazing reflexes, even if he constantly keeps skipping club activities like it’s no big deal.

Not to mention that he has a different girlfriend every week.

Willful. And lazy. And arrogant, easy even, maybe. 

That’s the impression he gives to people who don’t know him, anyway. Cas can feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because he has seen another side of Dean, too.

“Hey there, Castiel!” Theresa, a bubbly-happy-go-lucky girl who has joined the club too, greets him. Cas notices she’s cut her hair to a cute bob and compliments her, earning him an unexpected hug. Huh. First years are adorable. Her friend, yet unintroduced, snaps her fingers and expectantly looks up to Dean. “Say, are you dating this week?”

Huh. First years can be annoying too. Castiel does not need to be reminded of not knowing what’ll happen next week, thankyouverymuch.

“Uh… well.” Dean studiously avoids looking at Castiel. From what Cas has learnt about Dean, the other male is unsure if outing Castiel would be okay or not. Stupid considerate assbutt, does he even need to try to be a gentleman?

“He does. We’re dating,” Castiel grins and points at himself. Theresa’s friend squeaks a little and Theresa practically jumps back a step, laughing. “L-O-L, but you _would_ suit each other,” and shares a significant look with her friend. She’s cute when she smiles, Castiel thinks.

“You’d actually totes be an OTP in a series. Like Sterek? Or, like, Murder Husbands! _Coliver_!!”

Okay, the other girl is turning a light shade of red and barely squeezes out “I love gay OTPs” after that and Castiel is done. First years are weird. Was he the same back then? He hopes not.

Theresa is holding her friend's hand and nods. “Yeah. But, you know, Dean never tells anyone who he’s dating.”

“Yeah, but if you were, you’d be totes my IRL OTP,” her friend adds. Castiel barely keeps from rolling his eyes.

Oh well. He should not care. This week is likely some kind of joke, anyway.

 

Classes are not too boring, but Cas’ finds it easier to think about the last few days.

Good morning texts. Good night texts. Eating together. Shopping together. Going to the theatre and falling asleep.

And now Dean's walking Castiel to school?

What do normal couples do? He likes holding hands. There’s also kissing and - yeah. Touching, in any way. Dean seems distant in that regard.

Cas’ musings obviously are only reflective and he wonders how far Dean usually goes, maybe it’s different because Cas is male? But then, Dean would’ve said “chicks only” or whatever.

Right. When you do not understand something, you need it explained, and sometimes by an example. Enter Jo.

“What?!” Jo definitively did understand what he said, right? By the look of horror on her face, she does, but Castiel fails to see why she would look this outraged.

“Uh, when you and Dean dated, did you do the nast-,” he did expect some kind of reaction but had hoped for a slap instead of Jo punching him. That girl can seriously throw a punch.

“You’re _insufferable_. See, this is why girls feel let down by you. Your face is seriously wasted on you.”

Sitting back and propping herself against the table, she enquires,”Why would you ask me this anyway?”

“Well. We’ve been kind of getting along well and I was wondering,” Cas replies, and hopes his friend does not see the warmth he feels rushing to his cheeks.

“Hmm. Whether it’s to embrace you, or hold your hand, or anything. Dean won’t touch you unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Jo contemplates and stretches her arms behind her back before continuing, “I’ve heard some weird stuff in the showers room. Like, girls trying _really_ hard to get into his pants. If it was the other way around, they’d be yelling for attempted rape and him being expelled. I think this girl he actually turned down in a rude way and may have shoved her off, but obviously, it would have been deserved.”

“Whoa. Looks like some little princess is cut out to be a bitch,” earns Cas a snort and another (softer) blow by Jo. “Don’t ever call a girl a bitch. But yeah. It would almost seem appropriate.”

Cas realises that the chatter has increased by intensity, but decreased in volume and turns around.

“Speak of the devil,” he mutters, and Jo leans to the left to look around him. “What’s this? You really are becoming friends? Even so, why would he come here after every class?”

“Eh. He’s a strange one. So, he’s not a skirt-chaser, huh. Thanks, Jo.” Castiel picks up his backpack and ruffles Jo’s hair before turning around. He feels the flick of her fingers on his butt but chooses to ignore it.

 

Dean loves the wind. Soft breezes, harsh winter wind and storms, he’ll take it all. He feels weightless with the wind pushing him forward, and like he could fly away. He wants to cuddle up to someone, sometime in the future, when it’s really cold and damp and simply feel the bliss of warmth shared under a comforter; sipping tea and nibbling at cookies, and watch fall turn into winter and spring and summer again.

Right now, he feels weightless for a couple of reasons. Castiel's stupidly adorable hair is being pulled by invisible hands in every which way, and the dude actually has the audacity to close his eyes and turn his face towards the wind. He enjoys the wind just as much and looks. Well. Free. Free and beautiful. He can feel his heart beating faster again.

They’re sitting in the school garden, eating lunch.

“Say, next time it’s my treat, alright? You paid for pretty much everything until now,” Castiel takes a sip of his apple juice (not bought by Cas).

“It’s nothing, really. It should be my treat since we’re dating?” Dean isn’t looking at Cas, so Cas does not see the flicker of emotion when he casually replies “It’s not like anyone _believes_ we are.”

A giggle from somewhere to the left makes Cas look at the source and some squealing and two girls stick their heads together, hurriedly walking over while stealing glances towards Dean and himself.

“Is it because I’ve been hanging around you a lot lately? It seems like there're even more girls running around with heart-eyes?”

“You think?” Dean had not noticed.

“Yeah.”

“Are you annoyed?”

“Huh? No, no. It’s just. Theresa’s basically admitted she gets off on gay romance but could not imagine us dating for real. Like, if we were, really - you know. Dating.”

“That’s harsh, Cas.”

“Hush. Listen. Go to practise today, yeah?” Cas turns towards Dean who huffs a bit, already opening his mouth to say something in return. Cas quickly adds, “I’ll wait for you, so call me when you’re done. Well,” his tone turns teasing, “I might leave if I get impatient, though.”

“Ah well. Then please, almighty Castiel, wait for me. If you do, I promise I’ll do my best at practice.” Dean is grinning now, and frankly too adorable, sipping away happily at his drink (also not bought by Cas) and looking over to the benches across the school’s garden.

Cas, wanting to reply with the same snark, turns towards Dean but before he can open his mouth, his breath is caught because the galaxy of freckles is perfect and he wants to _touch_. Could he say it’s dust, later? That Dean had something smeared across his cheeck? Would that be too weird?

His right hand has a mind of its own, apparently, since it pulls his entire arm up and he gently wipes just below Dean’s left eye, and then there’s this weird thump-thump in his chest and for a second Dean is staring at him, like he cannot believe this has happened (Castiel understands, he does not, either) and before it can get any weirder, thankfully the bell rings and Cas jumps back.

“Shi-Shit! I need to change classrooms for next period. I need to get my stu- -Charlie?”

The redhead leans against a tree, a stack of books with her. “You’re an idiot,” she grins and nods Hi to Dean. With a few paces, Cas is next to her and hugs her tightly. “God, Charlie, I love you!”

“Cas.” Dean’s gaze is neutral, but he looks at Cas and Cas only, “That’s cheating, you know. You’re right in front of me, too.”

Charlie's eyebrows rise up, “Cheating?”

Cas backs away immediately, hands held up high in a (he hopes) playfully defensive stance. “I guess you’re right. Cheating’s no good. See ya!” And with that pushes a slightly dumbfounded looking Charlie back towards the building.

Dean can hear her murmuring a “What the hell, Cas?” Before they’re out of earshot. Tentatively, he touches his left cheek. He would have thought Cas would tell him that he smeared ketchup or whatever on him, not wipe it away.

Gently.

Like a lover in a movie.

With a steady, warm hand and those beautiful fingers. What a mess.

 

Castiel usually does enjoy sitting in a park and watching birds, or the gardeners raking leaves. But today he is annoyed with all the couples that decided to show up to the park next to their school while he waits for Dean’s club practise to be over.

They’re all touchy-feely, laughing, kissing, holding hands and he’s waiting for his so-called fake-not-fake-boyfriend whom he cannot even touch without needing an excuse. What kind of dating is that?

“Heya, Cas,” Dean unceremoniously plops down next to Cas, snickering at the senior jumping, at least, two centimetres up and scowling.

“Hello, Dean. Please refrain from scaring me. I am an old man and should not be surprised like so.” Cas knows that he can turn on the stern look, and really play the part, but he cannot hide the note of laughter in his voice, so Dean, again, is grinning and he’s still a bit flushed from the exercise. Glancing at the clock on his, Dean must have really hurried to come over so quickly. Cute.

“Let’s take a walk. To the lake?” Dean nods his assent and they begin their short walk to the small pond.

A loud laugh turns their attention to a couple, the high-pitched laughter in a beautiful tandem to the deeper voice of her boyfriend.

 

Cas smiles. “I haven’t been to this park for a while, but it’s still the same as before, annoying couples everywhe-- hey, we’re one too.”

Dean looks pleased, “Yup, we are,” and they continue their walk in silence.

The pond isn’t deep, really, but there is a railing to keep children away from the water. Upon reaching the water, Cas lets his backpack fall to the ground and leans on the railing, looking over the small lake. It’ll be beautiful in summer.

“Don’t you think you should come here, like, every week? This is a great spot to make girls fall all over you. In winter, you can huddle for warmth and in summer, it really is a sight to behold.” When Cas’ babbling is met with silence only, he glances towards Dean.

“Some people like places like this, I guess. But there are also people who don’t.” Right now, Dean does not care if his tone is a bit more clipped than strictly necessary, because Cas basically just said that he should bring next week’s girl like it’s a game, like he is not here with Cas, right now, and this is all that matters, for now.

Behind Dean, Cas can see yet another couple, this one actually kissing.

 

“ _Whether it’s to embrace you, or hold your hand, or anything. Dean won’t touch you unless it’s absolutely necessary._ ” Jo had said.

But Cas wants to try. The mood is right, he thinks. He has this itch under his skin and needs it to be done. Is this the magic Dean works that turns well-groomed girls into predators?

Only one way to find out, so Cas steps into Dean’s space and leans forward, wondering what the response will be.

Deans' gentle, so how will he let Cas down?

Will Dean step back first or will he playfully shove Cas, laughing?

 

Cas decides to let the Fates handle this from now on, and in the moment it takes him to blink like a sleepy cat, Dean takes a tentative half-step forward. His right-hand closes in on Cas’ cheek, the touch tender and caressing, only to then slowly slide through his hair, short fingernails pleasantly grazing Cas’ skin. Cas feels the weight of Dean's hand at the back of his head, and he notices the unmistakeable, soft pull forward.

Cas does not notice that his hand is bunching up the material at Deans left shoulder.

The only thing he notices next is that there’s a new warmth on his lips and Cas sighs into the softest kiss he has ever received.


	6. Tertius, Vel Dies Irae (Thursday, Or The Day Of Anger)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He does notice the confusion on Dean’s face. Hah. He probably expected for them to run to the bushes and a heavy make-out session. Mentally shaking his head, Cas exhales harshly, tugs his tie in place and purposefully walks towards the metro station. 
> 
> He does not turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm off to Croatia for almost two weeks so I'll likely not respond to any comments, sorry to leave you at a place like this. now go enjoy your angst.

The weight of hand on the back of his neck is grounding, and the soap Dean uses smells sweet on his skin, it really matches him. It’s lemon balm with a hint of mint. Refreshing. Castiel could easily nuzzle along the taut skin on Dean's neck, to check whether it is deodorant or perfume or soap or all of the three. 

The hand moves, slowly sliding back it’s earlier way across Cas’ ear, agonisingly so. But instead of brushing against his cheek, it veers down his jaw and then caresses the sensitive skin just behind his ear, to find rest in the crook of his collarbone. Dean's thumb continuously brushes against Cas’ pulse point and, fearful of the other boy noticing his rapid pulse, Cas takes a step back, feeling a frown cloud over his features. Did Jo lie to him?

“Cas?” Dean looks concerned, body language on the edge between leaning forward as if to follow, as if to take Cas’ hand and at the same time keeping himself in check, keeping himself distant.

 

“Gosh, what a player,” flashes through Cas’ mind but all he says is, “Huh. What a great trick.” And yes he thinks he is referring to Jo rather than to Dean but before he succumbs to the need to elaborate on any of this, he quickly scoops up his backpack to gain time to school his features.

 

“Cas? What’s wrong?” Dean has stepped back, definitively, his hands hanging relaxed but the fingers curled slightly, as if he’s keeping them to himself, not wanting to fist them, voice a bit rougher than before, ”What d’you mean, trick?

 

“How many times has he done that?” Cas wonders. Surely, enough must have fallen for this trick. Then he almost scoffs. He could kick himself, he had just told Dean that this place is  _ great  _ for shit like this. Of course a player would take him up on this. It’s not like he’s forceful, no, Dean really makes you  _ crave  _ him because seriously who does not touch when dating? If Cas didn’t feel so torn between wanting to kiss the everloving light out of Dean and kicking himself for wanting it, in the first place, he’d actually laugh.

 

“It’s nothing, Dean. I remembered I need to be somewhere else, soon, so I need to go,” Cas responds with what he hopes is a neutral tone and, with a short wave good-bye, turns and leaves. He does notice the confusion on Dean’s face. Hah. He probably expected for them to run to the bushes and a heavy make-out session. Mentally shaking his head, Cas exhales harshly, tugs his tie in place and purposefully walks towards the metro station. 

 

He does not turn around.

 

He does not see Dean wipe at his nose and, defeated, stuff his hands in his pockets, staring at his feet.

 

Thursday morning comes with the annoyance of too little sleep, an alarm way too loud and a heavy feeling in Dean's chest.

The continuous beeping of his clock makes for a sour mood. Dean likes to think he is a pacifist, but this morning started like crap since he fell asleep to the frowny face of Cas, dreamt of this beautiful boyish face having a twist of mistrust on his features and woke up to the feeling that  _ Cas walked away _ , so he takes the liberty to smash his hand a bit more forcefully to silence the annoying clock. Not too hard, of course, it has been a gift from Sam's first “summer job” when the little grunt got paid helping clean out Bobby’s yard and his brother suddenly had more pocket money than Dean to spare. 

Of course the little shit went and bought his family something.

Groaning, Dean turns around and imagines sinking into the mattress, not at all looking forward to getting up.

 

Because it’s happened again, hasn't it? 

Dean takes Cas’ joke seriously, and ends up making him angry or hurt, or disgusted perhaps. Cas asked him out. Cas told him he’ll be waiting. Cas, standing there in the breeze with his pleasant face, this stupidly crunchy cute nose, delicate lashes framing his eyes that are stuuuupidly blue - but ‘blue’ doesn't even cut it because that’s like saying his mom’s pie tastes ‘okay’ and that's a serious offense. 

A loud bang on the bathroom door makes Dean realise he has spent the last few minutes digressing and staring into the mirror but only replaying the scene yesterday. 

His face is weird today, he thinks. What kind of expression should he wear today? Dean hasn't felt like this in quite some time.

What kind of expression will Cas have? What if his attitude changed over the night. Dean sent a good night text and good morning text, and Cas replied, but what if afterwards he changed his mind?

 

Dean's morning routine hardly demands concentration, but even his mom urges him to ‘eat up, honey, you’re going to be late’ and before he knows, he’s standing next to the ticket office Cas passes on his way to school. 

Today his mood must transpire because his school mates do not approach him, or perhaps he doesn't hear them because looking down, he sees no shadows of feet standing in front of him, his hands in his pocket are a clear indicator to be left alone, and he keeps his back straight to not invite unwanted mothering feelings or appear sad. 

But his mind is racing back to yesterday, to Cas speaking of a trick. If it really has been a lark to Cas, a play of sorts, entertainment? - if that is the case - then even being friends would be hard. At least, Cas is a senior so he is relieved of the expectation to show up to every practise, only when his studies allow it. Still. It’d be easier to stop going altogether, after all.

“Hello, Dean.” The unexpected warmth and voice to his right takes Dean unawares and he jumps. Surely, the scare is also the reason his heart thunds harder.

“Dean. What’s with your face? You acted normal when you called me yesterday, so why so quiet now?”

Before Dean manages to scrounge up any kind of reply, Cas grins and slightly leans back and to this left, “Oh, you better not try anything like kissing me good morning. Yesterday was an  _ accident _ , and all your fault.”

This is it. Cas gives him an out of an awkward moment. 

So Dean takes what is offered and with a grin that doesn't sit right with him huffs a laugh. “Yeah right, it wasn't an accident, Admiral Ackbar, it was a trap!” 

They walk towards their line, and while Cas babbles something about his sister mangling a pillow, Dean manages to listen half-heartedly only because part of him keeps chanting  _ don't let it be a joke don't let it be a joke don't let it be a joke please don't let it be a joke. _

 

Dean enjoys his studies, but he adores lunch hour because food is what makes him always happy, be it comfort food or stuffing his face to plug his feelings in, food is always good. 

Spending lunch break with Cas is fun, because as soon as Cas finishes eating he starts yawning like a kitten sated on mother’s milk and stuffed into a soft blanket, and if that's not cute, Dean doesn't know what is. Today there is a little bitter note, albeit their conversation being as relaxed as the days before. But. Still. Something is off to Dean and he has this nasty feeling it is not related to them kissing the day before, but to Cas’ remark on tricks and the general feeling of being part of a joke. He knows that Cas is not cruel, and he is pretty sure - but not entirely - that Cas might have asked him out without thinking but not with any intent of making fun of Dean. 

And then there’s this near constant buzzing Dean gets, when he wants to actually touch Cas, casually. He’s seen it with how others interact with Cas, walking with his arm around the red-head’s - Charlie, Dean chastises himself, she has a name - waist, friendly nudges with mirth in his eyes and laughter on his lips. BUmping knees to draw the attention of his friend to something that happens near them. 

So what, Dean has checked Cas out and noticed that Cas absolutely does not instigate any form of bodily contact.

Which, in turn, makes Dean feeling all fuzzy. Sure, he always kept a safe distance to his previous partners to not encourage hope where he saw none, and  _ especially _ after the near-disaster with Bela Talbot when he feared for his chastity. 

But with Cas? He wants to these stupid things like entwine their fingers, or hold onto Cas’ sleeve when they’re walking in a crowded area like he’s seen in some movies he’ll never admit to watching. He likes to follow Cas, enjoys taking his eyes over the slender shoulders that he knows hold much more strength than one might think, and will surely fill out in a few years. The first time he secretly admired Cas’ muscled back, lean and lithe yet strong, he felt jimjams rushing somewhere below where he thinks his stomach is, a tingle in his spine and. Well. Until a few days ago, he thought he might have been simply admiring a graceful senior, like fourteen year olds are prone to do, since he never truly felt a sexual urge but he found himself drawn more and more to Cas, and after yesterday, he's certain he's crushing on Cas.

So when Cas, as expected, yawns, Dean doesn't even question his motive for offering, “Why don’t you take a nap? We still have like half an hour until fifth period.”

“You do recall I fell asleep during the movie too?” Cas crosses his arms behind his hand and yawns again.

“ _ Yeah. I recall, and so did I but no need for you to know _ ,” Dean thinks but instead replies, “It’s fine, I don't mind,” and out of the corner of his vision field he sees Cas get up with a mischievous grin.

“Alrighty. Scoot back, lend me your lap.”

Dean stares. Cas raises his left eyebrow and damn him his pink tongue sticks out a finger’s breadth and wets his lips and Dean's mind short circuits for a bit. 

“Wha-? N-?”

Cas plops down on Dean's left thigh and Dean's throat constricts around a squeak he’ll deny for the rest of his life when Cas almost casually grips at the hamstring.

“Wow, it’s really all muscle,” Cas is adjusting himself which translates to Dean's mind to a cat rubbing its head and he manages to clear his throat but before he can answer, Cas continues, “Well sure, you’re the sporty type. Can't expect you to have nice, soft thighs like a g… never mind. This is alright.” 

_ Bastard has closed his eyes. Damn those lashes.  _

Which means that Dean is peeking down, all the while his mind is racing along the lines of “For you it might be alright, but for me this.. Whoa.”

A few minutes pass in silence and Dean's heart rate is slowly going down. Cas’ breathing is steady and slow. Dean's hands itch to run through that hair, to see if it’s as soft as it looks. Likely.

“Oh, hey,” Cas startles him and slightly turns on his back which brings his head a teensy bit closer to a dangerous zone, “There’s a girl in my class you dated. Jo Harvelle? Do you remember her?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it, one cannot forget her, she’s got a strong personality and is great to have as a friend. Do you still see her?” 

With a shake of his head, and avoiding his eyes, Dean's response is a quiet, “I don't stay in contact with anyone I've dated.”

Almost instantly Cas’ weight is lifted and he is sitting back on his haunches, leaning forward, “But, don't some of them call you? Like, ever?”

Dean lets out a shaky breath. He doesn't like where this is going. At all.

“I don't know. I don't answer calls from unknown numbers.”

 

Something cold takes root in Cas’ stomach.    
“You delete their numbers. Any form of contact? Mail address too?”

At Dean's silence, Cas finds himself looking at his clenched fist, and adds “Just like that? No more contact? That’s.. That’s cold, Dean.” 

“Cas. If.. would you be okay with the person you're dating keeping getting calls from someone you don't know?”

This hits closer to home than Cas would like to admit. He still doesn't look up.    
“I guess it’s kind of.. But..,” Cas struggles for words, something Dean didn't think he'd witness.

“In other words,” and Cas voice sounds too calm for the next thing he says, “Next week you'll delete my number, too.

Somewhere a bird can be heard chirping, but otherwise it’s very quiet.

“That’s not up to me,” Dean thinks with a sinking feeling, but before he can attempt an explanation, Cas finishes, “Ah, that's right. We’re not really like  _ that _ , so it’s okay, right? It’s not like we're  _ actually  _ dating.

Hateful. Dean finds it hateful that he too often needs too long to find words.

The quiet is disrupted by Dean’s phone buzzing and what Cas thinks is Kula Shaker (Dean plays a lot of music) set as the ringtone.

Exhaling, Dean looks up. “I guess So. Excuse me for a bit. I need to answer this.”

The cold feeling in Cas’ stomach solidifies. So, to Dean, they're not really dating. Sure as hell will hurt next week when it’s officially over. And no one will know, his mind supplies.

He cannot make out the words but he can hear a loud, female voice. Dean has turned his back to Cas for some privacy and Cas tries to be decent but it’s too quiet and Dean voice carries.

 

“Did you apologise to him? Have you tried talking?”

The female voice replies, and Dean adds “It’s not that I'm on his side, but Cassie, you cheated on him.”

There's something akin to ice spreading near Cas’ lower back. He gets up without really noticing, the sound makes Dean turn around while adding “Sorry  Cassie, I’m-” but the phone is snatched from his hand, and Cas’ finger on the red button engulfs them in another silence with only a very quiet doot-doot-doot from Dean's phone.

There’s anger in him, and if Cas is being honest he is unsure where exactly it came from but it’s there and he needs to - has to - throw something. Dean's phone is flicked unceremoniously towards Dean who catches it, but it didn't help and Cas feels his shoulders straight out.

“So, you - you can delete the numbers of anyone who likes you as if it’s nothing, and leave them rot on their own to not make your current girlfriend feel jealous but you keep the one number?”

He heaves a breath, ready to ask if this happened to Jo, too, but Dean gapes at him and after a beat, quizzed look on his face and stutters, “Why are you so… angry?”

Screw this, Cas thinks, “Because _ I’m _ the one who’s dating you right now! Why _ shouldn't _ I be angry! You’re the one who throws us away but keep hanging onto someone without allowing us the courtesy to find closure on our own!” 

His cheeks are flushed, he can feel it, and his breath might not close to ragged but Dean's silence would make it soon so Cas wordlessly pick up his lunch litter and bag and wills himself to not storm off, only allows himself to walk a bit faster than usual. He needs to get away.

 

Feeling lost, Dean can only stare at the retreating figure. He takes a step back until his shoulders touch the wall and slides down into a crouching position, then sits down completely and lets his head fall onto his knees. The beeping from the phone is the only sound for a couple of seconds before his phone rings again. It’s Cassie. 

Accepting the call, Dean looks up and wills himself to breath slowly.

“Are you crying? If you can’t let him go, why don't you forgive him. He cheated on you one single time, years ago, and you've had your own revenge.

A sniffling voice answers, “It doesn't have anything to with how many times. Once, ten times, it’s all the same.”

“I understand. I guess it is hard, because you really cannot be without him, can you? I’ve always envied him for that.”   
“You’re a masochist, aren't you?”

A mirthless laugh make its way through Dean's lips, “No, I am not.”

“Dean,” sniffle, “I love you. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Dean closes his eyes, “I love you too.”

 

Dean ends up going to practice in a dazed state, but make it work out somehow, and is met with a waiting Cas after hours. Hand in his pockets, Dean walks over. He doesn't trust himself to not reach out.

“Dean. I’m sorry about what happened at lunch. After thinking, I really should not have thrown such a tantrum, right? Even I don’t really understand why it made me so angry.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think you need to apologise,” Dean feels a smile tug at his mouth’s corners, and he wriggles his fingers, gesturing Cas to come closer, only to whisper into the other male’s ear, “You see, I’m… the type who likes being tied down, I think. Like you did at lunch.”

 

There’s a subdued squeak to their left and Theresa’s friend is gaping at Dean.

Cas face is schooled neutral when he looks back at Dean, then back to her. “Yes, sweetie, he said he is a masochist. Hush now, this is a private conversation.”

 

In another part of the city, Cassie is sitting in her living room and stares at her phone, lips formed into a pout, and pokes her phone with a manicured fingernail.

“Dean, I love you. You know that.” She had been truthful, she always has been with him. 

  
“Yeah, I love you too,” his voice was hoarse, but it was there and said what she needed to hear, “But. Cassie, I’m not going to answer your calls anymore. Just like you'll always put him first, I..” a shaky breath on his end tells her Dean is looking up, he always does, “Just like you'll always put him first, I have found someone more important to me than you. Be happy. I will do my best to be with the person who makes _me_ happy, and so should you. The two of you will work it out, and so will I.

A few seconds pass.

"Because I know I want to be with him.”


	7. Quartus, Ante Meridiem (Friday Morning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Me?”, Cas points at himself. Raph cocks his head in mockery to Cas’ head tilt, “Yes, Castiel. Who else would I be referring to. There is no one else here next to you.” “Always Cassie here, Cassie there, it’s no wonder people get confused,” Cas mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the late update, I was out of the country and blissfully freed from the internet ;)  
> also Ao3 did a no-no so the first upload only had like 320 words and got deleted. this is the second upload. apologies for any inconveniences.

The next morning finds Castiel yawning all the way to the station. He is quickly sobered by the sight of Dean, who is leisurely speaking with some school colleagues - all female.

Approaching the group of students, Cas hears snippets of a conversation concerning pies of all things, and Dean’s very enthusiastic opinion on the plethora of possibilities of making a pie.

The boy in question looks towards the direction Cas usually emerges from and upon noticing Cas, his smile is bashful and gentle, and Cas could bet his eyes are a bit heavy-lidded.

Cas had noticed that Dean seems a bit - off, for the lack of better words, as if he is hiding something. Charlie has often enough compared Cas to a cat (way too relaxed, likes to lie on the floor with the sun shining on his filled belly and very, very curious), so, of course, his curiosity makes time pass quickly during the school day. 

He wonders. 

The only reason Dean would be out of character and hide something, to Cas’ knowledge at least, would be the enigmatic Cassie. Judging by the fact that Dean still keeps her number - and takes her call - there ought to be a connection to the recent change in Dean.

Cas feels a short-lived pinch just above his navel, a rather nasty feeling of dread coming out of nowhere. 

The bell rings and puts an end to a class he had not even noticed he's been in.

Flopping his head onto his open but unused notebook, Cas groans inwardly. What to do? If Dean did - if they met? Surely she'd called back after being cut off. He understands now why Dean said he doesn't keep the numbers of previous partners, it feels terrible, but even more so it is hurtful that he keeps the one number. 

A heavy hand on his shoulder and a loud, “Oi, Cassie!”, to his left startles Cas.

Raphael's reaction to Castiel's face could be hilarious if not for the fact that he composes himself quickly and speaks up, “What’s that face supposed to be? You know, you’re way too young to wear such a frowny expression.”

“Me?”, Cas points at himself.

Raph cocks his head in mockery to Cas’ head tilt, “ _ Yes _ , Castiel. Who else would I be referring to? There is no one else here next to you.”

“Always Cassie here, Cassie there, it’s no wonder people get confused,” Cas mumbles.

“Uh. I apologise. I have.. Actually… no idea what you are talking about…? Did something happen with Charlie?” Raph is a good friend, sitting down at the edge of Cas’ table, nudging him with his knee to speak up.

“No. It’s just… huh. I don’t really know,” Cas confesses.

“Aha? Alright, uh. You know you are not alone and that you can talk to any of us,” Raph smacks his lips, contemplating something. “Oh well, might as well do. Listen, are you free next weekend?”

“I guess I am, why? What do you want to do?”

“My sister moved recently and I helped her out,” Raph rummages through his portemonnaie, “and as thanks for carrying all of her shoes and jewelry without complaining - and she has a lot, trust me - she gave me these tickets for the new movie with that British actor. I have not been able to go, and frankly do not care for the movie, sooo I am giving these to you,” and with that, he hands Cas some laminated paper.

Quickly scanning the information printed onto the slip, Cas notices the expiration date. Next Sunday.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had not remembered to ask before and then the tickets slipped my mind. I thought this might cheer you up.”

Something shifts in Cas’ chest and while Raphael might now know it, he can see the change in Cas face that quickly lights up and looks boyish again.

“Really? I can have the ticket?”

“Yes you can,” Raphael is smiling, “and the best part is that you can choose any movie, and get a coke and popcorn for free too.”

“You're the best! Thank you so much!” Cas exclaims.

In a rather uncharacteristic way, Cas is fidgeting and his smile is a thousand watt light bulb. Raph is nothing if not direct so the next logical step is to ask, “Say, do you have a new girlfriend?” to which Cas freezes a bit.

“Huh? Why are you asking?

“Hm. You gave off the impression. How to say it? Ah, yes. It seemed as if you knew exactly who you're going to ask and it is not the expression one wears when wanting to ask out a friend.”

_ Damnit, he’s sharp.  _

Cas feels the telltale heat colouring his cheeks and Raph grins even more, “Ah, I love it to be right. Well. Enjoy the movie, I wish you lots of fun,” and saunters towards the classroom door as if he had not just given Cas a superb gift he might not be even able to use. 

 

Next class was Art Education and, it being a rather warm day, the teacher decided to hold class in the school yard.

At Saint Josephine’s art and physical education as well as ethics take two hours and are held at the same time for two classes each, rotating. Cas catches a glimpse of wheat coloured hair sailing through the air as it is Dean's turn to high jump. He manages well, still has enough space between the bar and his body. From the coloured marking on the posts holding the bar, his class is working on jumps between 1.30-1.45m. (4.26-4.75 ft).

Castiel loves the feeling of floating, but he has a great dislike against high jump as a sport so seeing Dean smile after jumping and calling over he’d “like to go again to see if this is all” he’s got, Cas feels a surge of pride and - a cloud is pushed away, allowing the sun to break through and the light bathes Dean into a golden light. Damn. Cas is done for. And it’s Friday.

A loud “Ooi, Cas!” and waving Dean startle the boy back into reality and he sees Dean jogging over to where Cas is standing.   
“Heya Cas,” Dean smiles, likely a bit high on endorphins after sport, leaning his shoulder against the fence that separates the school court from the sports area (and enthusiastically thrown balls).

“Hello, Dean,” Cas can feel himself fidget again and mentally chastises himself for being nervous. The soft sound of his drawing block being pressed harder against his side calls Dean's attention.

“Oh, your class is having art now? Lucky you, it’s a great day. We’re starting to sweat but it's fresh enough outside to cool down quickly.” Dean stretches and a mix between Wookie and yawning escapes his mouth,”Mneehh,” for which Cas can only stare because darn he thought he is done for but Dean is definitely adorable. Like. Innocent apple and berry juice adorable.

“Uh. Say. Do you want to go to the movies?”

Cas is screwed. Dean's eyebrows are way up on his forehead and he points vividly between Cas and himself. It really is not fair.

“Uh, Yes, I’ve got a pass for any movie we’d like to see.”

“Sounds great,” Dean is grinning, “when is it?”.

His grin is infectious, so while Cas reads aloud the movie name and date of the movie preview, he replies, “So, Next weekend. Wanna go?” and then his smile slips away at Dean's serious expression.

Before, Dean had held onto the meshed wire of the fence, his face almost pressing against the wire like an excited puppy might do, but now his hands are lowered and dangle without purpose and he doesn't look at Cas. “Next weekend,” he mumbles, and Cas could kick himself.   
“Yo; Dean!” a classmate hollers, “get yer butt back here it’s your turn soon!”

“Cas. Let’s.. let's talk about this matter later, alright? I gotta go,” Dean still won't look at Cas but instead turns on his heel and jogs back to his team.

  
  


“What was that?” Charlie chirps next to him, “that didn't look like a convo between junior and senior.” She is grinning, “Do you want to make an enemy of the entire female populace in school?”

“Wha- NO, come on, Char,” but Cas cannot help glance back to Dean who looks defeated and it appears his motivation has been lost.

“Oh, I just want to get my hands on that piece of work and gobble him up,” a girl from parallel class has joined them, “I plan on trying really hard next week.”

Cas can only watch the gracefulness with which Dean moves, and reminds himself to not clutch the movie tickets to fast so as not to rip the paper.


	8. Quartus, Post Meridiem (Friday Afternoon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhaling, Dean still is not looking at Castiel but all Cas sees is the slight blush on beautiful freckled cheeks and for a second, everything stops when Dean mumbles, “Why is it so difficult? Liking someone is really... Just too complicated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for any errors, I have worked approximately 15 hours per day since last Sunday.

The ticket is a heavy weight in his pocket throughout the day. At least Friday school closes earlier, and at one they’re released. Just like the days before, they are walking back home, the streets quiet, but the silence is not so enjoyable as it has been previously. Cas sighs, “Here,” and pulls out the movie ticket, unceremoniously pushing it into Dean's hand.

“Huh?”

“For you. You can go with the person you're dating next week. Sorry for being ignorant,” and Cas knows he's being rude but right now he needs to continue walking forward without looking at Dean because he is afraid what kind of expression the other boy is showing on his face, and he decidedly keeps his hands in his pockets to not reach out or do anything similarly stupid. He likes this place, a small old staircase of just a few steps. He hopes he will remain fond of it even after today.

“That is, unless you plan on inviting Cassie. In that case, please return them, I’ll ask a friend.”

Dean doesn't reply. 

Cas continues, too casually, his eyes following the path of two birds enjoying the warm gusts of wind promising a beautiful summer, “You cannot give her up, I understand that, kind of.”

“Why must you- why do you say such things?” Dean's voice is rougher than usual, “When you got mad at me yesterday? Saying that you're the one dating me now- I- I felt happy.” Upon turning around, Dean looks much smaller, a bit fragile, and Cas’ only thought is that it's funny how all he'd like to do is walk back those few paces and embrace the other boy.

This boy in question rubs his hand over his face, for a few seconds, the only sound around them are cars passing some blocks over and the paper rustling as it rubs against skin.

Exhaling, Dean still is not looking at Castiel but all Cas sees is the slight blush on beautiful freckled cheeks and for a second, everything stops when Dean mumbles, “Why is it so difficult? Liking someone is really... Just too complicated.”

The silence continues, something under Cas’ skin is boiling, hurt and a hint of hope fighting for the upper hand, until a third feeling enters. Right in that moment Cas thinks he got closer to Dean than ever before, perhaps than anyone before. He feels a small smile tug at the corners of this mouth.

“It’s like that because you have no judgement,” Cas likes his way of thinking, it doesn’t hurt now, he understands. It’s not that Dean does not care, he cares too much, or does not know when to stop. So what if Cas avoids to look at Dean directly. So what if this - infatuation - will come to an end soon. He has had a great time, and if someone will not appreciate the way Dean wants to adore them, it’s their loss. He made a good friend, if nothing else, and as a good friend he knows what is necessary.

“See, if our girls would find out about Cassie, they’d be devastated. You’re going to be alright, however it turns out. Just never lose resp-”

“Cas, did your friends ever tell you that you’re kind of stupid?” the frown on Dean’s face does not match his intonation, head turned slightly to the left.

“Wha- yes? Whose friends don't?” Cas tries for humour.  


“No, like, really slow.  _ Stupid  _ slow.”

 

Right. Cas might not be the most adept for social interactions, but he is a snarky person if need be but right now Dean’s words and mimic are very confusing, but before he can voice his concern about Dean’s direction of thought, Dean continues.

“Like, looking at you... Whatever you do, you remain graceful, your countenance stoic and you’re collected. When in truth, you’re really careless and kind of a slob and far be it for me to judge, but what I have gotten to know, you’re hardly stoic, blurting out whatever comes to mind, doing whatever comes to mind. Acting rashly.”

Cas’ stomach plummets a bit at that. Yeah, He’s been told pretty much the same by many others. Charlie and a few others care for him, but most? Most see a pretty face and then leave. Crap, he truthfully thought that Dean wouldn't be the same, he seemed different enough. But then again - Cas can't help it, being the way he is, he is truthful. 

“It’s the way I am,” is on the tip of his tongue, but it appears that once Dean starts out dishing, he is going full course. 

“Your personality,” Dean inhales for the final blow, and Cas’ knows. 

Here it comes, he knows, it always comes, the tell-tale, “ _ Your personality makes me feel disappointed, _ ”-speech he has heard just a few days ago and too many times before.

“Cas, your personality?” Dean clears his throat, pink tips of his ears unseen by Cas who decided his shoes are very interesting, “To me, it’s very… I like it.”

 

_ He likes it. He likes me. _

A different weight settles in Cas’ stomach, but instead of pressing down on him he feels lighter.

The whispered, “Thank you,” is heartfelt and there might be a little lump in his throat. He quickly realises that his reply might not truly convey what he meant, so he elaborates, “I’m gad. I mean. Until now most turned away disappointed after we got to know each other better. Even my friends tell me I’m a waste of a pretty face, that I came off the line with a crack in my chassis.”

_ His smile isn't fake but it isn't a happy one either _ , flits through Dean’s mind. He can feel his face burning even more, because Castiel appears to radiate, something glowing inside him that Dean has not noticed before.

“So when I say thank you, it’s because this is the first time I've been told that I am okay just the way I am. So, thank you.”

Dean scoffs. “You're… as slow as ever,” but there's a gentleness Cas hadn't noticed before and he wonders if Dean feels cold because his cheeks and ears are pink. He feels good, now. It’s interesting how just a few words can change the scenery, Cas muses.

 

“Uh. Castiel?” a nervous voice cuts through the cozy haze, turning around Cas is facing a petite girl he has seen a couple of times cheering during their competitions this year, the red lines on her uniform indicating her being a first year.

Fidgeting for a moment, she finally looks up, “I.. could we talk for a bit?”

Cas would  _ really  _ prefer to not be disturbed, and even to him the way Dean and he are standing close together, anyone with eyesight ought to notice that they’re butting in.

His exasperation must show in his face, because she swallows and asks again, a bit more forcefully, “Please? It won't take long,” her small hands are clenched together, knuckles whitening. Cas glances over to Dean whose face is closed off, expressionless but looking away, apparently feeling uncomfortable.

“Um, Dean. Why.. why don’t you go on without me, I’ll catch up?”

Dean’s head snaps up, his look piercing. He doesn't spare the girl a second of his attention, is uncharacteristically rude, so Cas is taken by surprise of the gruff tone not accepting alternatives, “I’ll wait for you. I will wait for you  _ right here _ .” 

Cas nods slowly, “Alright then. I’ll be right back,” turning to the girl he quietly says, “Show the way please,” and glances back at Dean who, at her turning away looks vexed and lost.

 

They walk a short distance, just to the next corner. Her voice is an unpleasant buzz in Cas mind as it replays the hurt look on Dean's face and his body is pulling him back to the small staircase.

The buzz is gone. Looking up, the girls is expectant, a lovely smile painted on her face but she is likely catching up that Cas wasn't paying attention. Charlie will kick his shins if she hears about him ignoring someone who gathered their courage.

“Right. So, what’s your name?”

“Amelia. Amelia N-”

“Well then, Amelia. What do you like about me?”

“Err. Well I’ve seen you a couple of times at school and you are so pretty, in a manly way, and you seem kind and.. You’re really tall? You seem like a kind person, and a cool guy, and I think you’re really.. Se..se..sexy and I’d like to go on a date with you,” she is stammering, poor girl, and Cas would find it adorable how she tries to act older than her fourteen or fifteen years of age. But the familiar stale taste of being reduced to appearance is even more disheartening after his talk with Dean, and Amelia really did butt in and- he tampers down on the urge to lash out a few harsh words. 

“Look, Amelia, thank you for the compliment I guess but, trust me, you’d be disappointed, so-”

“No, I’m sure it’d be great, look, let’s try?” She’s flustered, a hand poised as if to grab at him, so he steps back a pace, hands rising in a placid manner, “Amelia, I’m sorry, but no. You don’t know me. You see what you like but you don't know who I am or how I am,” Cas can see the impact of his words, but he also knows that her infatuation will be short lived. This is the first time they talked, it’s not like they have been friends.

“Also, right now I’m seeing someone,” he tries to soften the blow he delivers, “someone who says I am okay just the way I am.” She doesn't look too happy, but Cas can see understanding blooming in her expression. She nods, “I think I understand. I.. It’s just my friends told me to go for it and that you’re a really cool guy.”

“Truth be told, I’ve been told I’m a dork and and idiot,” Cas snorts at her open display of disbelief, mouth slightly agape. If Charlie ever asked, he would not be able to describe his thought process but the important thing is that he has reached this point, understood something fundamental to his happiness.

“Amelia, you will find happiness with someone once you get to know them. If I may say this, I’ve met many people and often enough not waited to get to know them properly. You can lose out on friendships, too. You’re what, fifteen? I’m eighteen. Learn from an old man, you’ll fall in love in your own time and on your own terms. I can promise you that at first you will not even notice it until it’s imbedded into your very core. This is where I am right now. It can happen within a few days, or after months. You’ll notice it once you are there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback and comments are appreciated, they honestly rub a writer souls just the way we like it. kudos are blanketed puppies, but I'd love to hear what you think of their progress so far.


	9. Quartus, Vesperum (Friday Evening)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh st-”, Cassie starts, but then eyes Cas again. This time, curiosity and this glint are dominant, and Cas feels weighed and judged. She hums, a neutral sound, “So, you’re Cas. Let me have a look at that lovely face,” she says, reaching out. It’s not threatening, it couldn't be, but he dislikes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so apparently my depression decided it would be a good time for me to desire cutting off my face and whenever I sat down to write, I wrote hate and angst.  
> I'm recovering.
> 
> if anyone is still reading this - please excuse the rough writing. The chapter is rather unpolished, and I had to partially reread everything to remember what I wrote (that is working yourself ot death for) and I am fighting to stay positive (sans necessary angst) so make what you want of it.

Dean fidgets. The girl asking Cas to talk in private? That happened, like, _Way_ too long ago. Dean can practically feel the capital letter. They’ve been away too long for a casual talk, also, if she wanted casual talk there would not have been a need for privacy. Dean dislikes the uneasy feeling. Cas hadn't really replied to his sorry excuse of a confession, and the girl’s cute and - he really, really, _really_ dislikes this. Did Cas feel like this, before, when he witnessed Dean speaking on the phone to Cassie? Ugh, no wonder he got angry.

A bony chin presses into his shoulder, and Cas’ voice breaks through dark thoughts like sunshine through a clouded sky after heavy rain, “So, tell me - where do you live? We’ve only ever walked to my home. Let’s spice our day up. I want to go to your house. Can I?”

“Uh,” Dean feels a little overwhelmed. His home is nothing to be embarrassed about, but - “I enjoy walking you home.”

“Yeah, you do it every day. Now it’s my turn, come on,” Cas’ reply is easy, his smile barely there as if the amusement of Dean fidgeting (he is _so_ not fidgeting) only adds Cas’ enjoyment to tease him further. Oh, well. If all works out, Cas would come over anyway, so why not sooner than later.

“All right then,” Dean sticks his tongue out, pulls the strap of his messenger bag taut and, turning around, asks over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

Cas appears puzzled. He swings his right hand over his shoulder, thumb pointing to the general direction behind him. “Uh, Dean, the station is over that way.”

“Yes, Cas. I _know_. My house is that way...” the other boy replies and Cas could swear he hears the smirk. On Bell’s.”

Holy crap. Bell Hills is one of the older parts of town, and, like, way across town. Dean basically commutes half an hour to school, and taking Cas home - a quick calculation makes Cas blush - makes Dean's commute home take longer than an hour, and that’s if Dean does not miss any connecting trains or buses. Warm embarrassment, the kind gets when one’s grandmother dabs at a napkin to wipe away homemade marmalade from one’s chin, fills Cas. Dean really - really. Yeah. Really. Does make time for Cas. Like. Really. Cas might feel a smudge of pride at that. At the same time, he feels a little inadequate.

_Inadequate._

That’d be the kindest word to use to describe how Cas feels forty-seven minutes later, standing in front of a huge gate that closes off Dean's home from the quiet and tidy old street which is still plastered with old and well-kept street stones.

Although the phrase _found wanting_ suddenly comes to mind, too, he shushes himself. The house is not too fancy, a two-story building whose windows are framed by sturdy ivy raking itself across the wall, and every window is graced by a plethora of flowers, seemingly left to grow without any coordinated coloration. Cas likes it. There are wealthy gardens who are filled with flowers but they are tended to with a perfection, which, at least to Cas, diminishes the beauty of the work done. No garden should look like it had been spray painted and no bush should be cut with a ruler held next to it. Casis even more pleased when he sees in the far corner to his left that a respectable part of the garden is left to its own devices, completely unkempt. He remembers reading in a gardening magazine (what? he likes plants) that by allowing Nature to do her own work, gardens are a haven for many insects and small animals.

Anyway. Apparently Dean's family is very well off. This might as well be a typical plot from a Japanese dorama, Cas decides. He is taken back to Meg and him finding a Taiwanese drama that has like 47 episodes and they devoured five last Saturday. Girl-bodyguard-and-mussed-up-pseudo-prince. Hilarious.

Lost in his thoughts, Cas belatedly notices that the intercom buzzes to life, a disembodied female voice greeting Dean and welcoming him home. “I have a guest,” Dean adds, and the reply is swift, “Very well.”

The walk through the lovingly kept garden is short, and Cas’ nervousness heightens itself with every passing second until it spills over just in front of the door. His poor attempt at formulating a sentence he does not even know the content of (something along the line of, “De-Dean. Uh. Your family..?”) is interrupted by Dean opening the Door. Cas immediately checks his shoes. No dirt. Good.

Dean manages to peel off his shoes while walking in front of Cas, and he looks funny wobbling like that. After entering, Cas does not even have time to take off their shoes when lively voice calls, “Welcome home!”

A young woman, only a couple of years older than Cas and Dean enters. Her brown hair shines golden here and there when the sunlight hits it right and she is stunningly beautiful, a sky blue dress making her creamed coffee skin glow. She bounces down the stairs, her step lively, and she not-so-gently crushes Dean into a hug. Cas watches with amusement - her familiarity makes it likely she is a family friend unless Dean’s mother has managed to hide away at least fifteen years of age. She bustles with energy. It takes a moment for Cas to notice that, one, Dean is not hugging back and his shoulders are tense and, two, he is the new object of interest for the yet unknown lady. Her eyes are curious and kind, but there is a glint of something he cannot single out. Releasing Dean from what by now appears to be a really uncomfortable hug, she steps around the boy in question and in two quick steps invades Cas’ personal space.  
“Oh goodness. You are adorable! Such a pretty kid,” she bursts, a blinding smile on her face. She leans forward, a bit too much, and continues, “Oh, I.. I just love faces like yours. How old are you? Are you in the same year as Dean? What’s your name?”

The bombardment continues without her taking a breath or allowing Cas more than a muttered “Er, I..” before Dean gently, but firmly, takes hold of her shoulder and drags her back.

“Cassie. Don’t.”

_What. The. Fuck._

Unbeknownst to Cas’ discomfort, Dean, his hand still on her shoulder, continues to talk but the words blur into the background of Cas being confronted with - a rival? He doesn’t even know.

“Look, we haven’t even taken off our shoes and you cannot just-,”

“Hush, isn’t it fine?” Casssie interrupts.

An exasperated sigh escapes Dean throat, “Look - stop, let us arrive first before you smother Cas, alright?”

“Oh st-”, Cassie starts, but then eyes Cas again. This time, curiosity and this glint are dominant, and Cas feels weighed and judged. She hums, a neutral sound, “So, _you’re_ Cas. Let me have a look at that lovely face,” she says, reaching out. It’s not threatening, it couldn't be, but he dislikes it.

In fact, Cas feels really uncomfortable. The entire scene is ridiculous, and he is disgusted and in that moment, with her look, and her looks, and the tone of her voice and her intonation and closeness to Dean and her being _her_ , somehow sharing a name with him, - he…- well, just in this short second, he hates her. He’ll reflect on such a disgusting side of himself later, when he’s alone but right now he cannot help it.

Before she touches him, Dean snatches her hand back and keeps holding it. “Don’t screw around. You’re making me angry. Stop this game,” his voice is deceptively calm, but the gentleness Dean usually carries around is erased by square shoulders as if he is getting ready for a fight of some kind.

The discomfort and ugly voice in Castiel, of course, make sense of it. Dean likes Cassie still so much, Dean won’t even let her touch his face for a laugh? Well. That’s messed up.

Cassie, in what likely was meant to be a helpful gesture, opens her mouth and blurts, “Wait. Cas. As in, “One year older, and, what did you say, Dean? I think it was along the line of _‘Rather than cute, I’d say beautiful?_ ” Dean manages just in time to clasp a hand over her mouth, barely cutting her off at “Like, more so than m-” but the damage is done and Dean is unsure whether she is cruel or blindly stupid or had good intentions but nothing of that matters because Dean is still processing what has happened, oblivious to the only thing Cas still sees is Dean, dumbfounded, pressing Cassie of all people close to him, one arm around her waist and the other covering her mouth and that’s it.

Cas, in a rare fit, exclaims angry “What the hell is this?!” and then he is already slinging his messenger bag onto his shoulder and exits hurriedly out of the door.

Cassie wriggles her head free, and with a tone just too much on that side of innocent asks, “Why did he leave?” while at the same time, Dean stands open-mouthed and breathes out,”Oh, no, no, no way-” before, maybe a bit too rough, shoves her out of his way and starts to follow Cas only to notice he had already taken off his shoes and grunts, quickly deciding that it would not do to switch to flip-flops as he’d fall too quickly and his socks wouldn't protect his feet. Shit. If he needs to run, he needs to tie them, and why are his thoughts so jumbled that he’s thinking about that instead of how to fix something he does not even know whether it could be fixed and he is angry at himself and Cassie and her stupid games. He’ll deal with her later. Now, he needs to find Cas.

“You,” he points at the source of this mess, “I’ll hear an explanation and how sorry you are after I set things right with him,” and glimpses a crease emerging on her forehead but he’s gone.

Cassie stays where she is, unsure what happened. She was only joking. Dean should know. Dean _always_ understands. And he’s always been there. A warm and gentle hand on her shoulder makes her jump. “Cassie, you should stop teasing him. You know how much Dean looks up to you,” Michael's voice is calm, unafflicted. Cassie stopped wondering about Dean's kindness a long time ago. She knows he had a crush on her, some years ago, but he was thrown into puberty and certainly any girl would have been interesting. At least, that is according to Michael. She decidedly does not wonder how things would have played out if Dean had been a bit older. Or she, younger. That is not a story to indulge in, and anyway, there is no other place like the home she has in Michael's arms. A friend told her in no uncertain terms that she felt that Cassie was an ugly bitch inside out, that she must be aware of Dean liking her way more than an older sister and that her encouragement to continue could, and likely would, hurt all of them, but at least Dean. Cassie shoves the memories of that day away, just like she had shoved away the friendship of that particular traitor. It’s not her fault that Michael is the right age while Dean would always be the second best option, right? Michael sighs. He knows why Cassie behaves like she does. He knows that she tries to make him pay or make him jealous of his younger brother. Maybe it is time they talk about what happened then. And what needs to happen, now, because if she is indeed oblivious to her behaviour, it is not a healthy relationship to both him and Dean. And if she is playing, deliberately keeping Dean as a back up because she knows Dean can never say no to someone hurting - then it might be time for therapy. Thoughts for another day. All Michael knows is that no matter how close he needs her, she will never come between his brothers and himself.

A few blocks away, Dean finally catches up with Castiel. Dean can be a stubborn son of a bitch so he valiantly ignored Cas’ telling him, ‘leave me alone’ and ‘go back’. Hell. Cas won't even look at him.

“Cas,” Dean tries again, and yeah, maybe he is kind of a little bit unfair by cornering Cas against a wall, outstretched arms making an optical box around Cas in hope to keep him standing where he is, “what’s wro-”

“Shut UP,” Cas bursts, and looks down at the floor, angry, hurt, and feeling dirty. He consciously forces his body to relax a bit, unclenching his fists.

“Cas,” Dean's voice is pleading, “just - please? Tell me what you’re angry at. What did I do? What _can_ I do?”

Cas pushes against Dean, attempting to step aside and walk - and maybe calm down, and talk later, but now he needs to get away because he is not okay. With any of this.

“Cas,” fingers dig into his forearm, but not so much with force to keep him from walking away, but rather - if Dean's face is any indication - to give way to the need of Dean keeping a physical connection, “Cas, are you okay?”

_Seven days, at most. Jo had said, dating Dean had felt like a dream and Cas can feel himself being woken up roughly. It’s Friday._

Exhaling, Cas closes his eyes and slumps against the wall. He doesn’t look at Dean, and before he had not noticed that it is a very quiet neighbourhood, but now, the silence is oppressive.

“Today.. What day is it?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start again with short one-shots. any cute ideas you might have are appreciated because for now all I see is darkness and I'm not going back there. thanks for reading.
> 
> also, the nod to the series is to 剩女保鏢 / Sweet Sweet Bodyguard. it is a very gentle series, and you can learn a shitload about Taiwanese social structure. Find more information about the series [here](https://www.viki.com/tv/23407c-sweet-sweet-bodyguard?locale=en).


	10. Quintus, Ante Meridiem (Saturday Morning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aaaah, the rumoured weekly girlfriend?” Tajiri’s tone is light and teasing, and she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers before continuing, “I understand. So, if I wait until the day after tomorrow it’d be fine to ask you.” Again. There’s again this stupid word. Weekly. Dean has recently taken a great dislike to that word. About the same time that he noticed that Cas is awesome. And cute. And very lovable. And absolutely the best thing that could have happened to Dean.

“Yeah, training went well,” Dean replies absentmindedly to Tajiri, rummaging through his bag in order to find his phone. They are walking towards the school gate, the other club members trailing behind.

He immediately feels a tad bit disappointed that the notification light is inactive. He has hoped that Cas might reply to Dean's good morning text. Maybe he hasn’t woken up, it was just after ten in the morning after all.  Who would want to get up at six in the morning on a Saturday if they didn’t have to, but surely Cas wouldn't sleep until ten? They wanted to meet after the training session was over.

 

“Say, Dean,” Tajiri continues, “it’s really cool that you come to training regularly. I mean. It’s not been a whole week but you haven't missed any practice and even came today. What’s up with that?”

“Ah. Yeah. It’s.. because if I don't, I’ll be scolded?” Dean grins.

“By the teacher? I thought that hadn't bothered you before. Oh, well, whatever,” she quickens her step and stops in front of him, “How about we go to an early lunch together?”

Dean smiles, “Thanks, but I’m already meeting someone today.” That is, if I can get a hold of Cas, Dean adds to himself. No need to tell Tajiri though.

“Aaaah, the rumoured weekly girlfriend?” Tajiri’s tone is light and teasing, and she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers before continuing, “I understand. So, if I wait until the day after tomorrow it’d be fine to ask you.”

Again. There’s again this stupid word. Weekly. Dean has recently taken a great dislike to that word. About the same time that he noticed that Cas is awesome. And cute. And very lovable. And absolutely the best thing that could have happened to Dean.

“Right?” She prods, though judging from her face, she senses that her questions missed the mark entirely. “Dean? Are you all right?” Suddenly, Tajiri's voice is rather annoying.

Dean knows that she’s a sweet girl and her questions were teasing and not malicious, but his mind is occupied with _Why didn't Cas call_ and _Why hasn't he replied_ and _Is he all right_ and _I need to hear his voice_.

“Hey, can I.. make a phone call?” he’s already unlocking his phone, but his parents raised him right so he asks her.  
“Uh, yes, of course,” he hears her reply but pays no heed to what she says, pressing his finger to Cas’ grainy picture on his home screen. Bless phones with widgets. He wanted to take one with better quality (one where Cas isn't fighting him), but never managed to ask. Again, the heaviness he feels in his stomach when he thinks about the possibly Cas-less new week makes his mood drop.

 

“Today. What day is it?,” Cas had asked and his voice had been so rough and small and Dean did not know what to do except to reply, “Friday.” and after that Cas had been rather silent and closed off.He had asked to meet today, so there’s hope, right? Right? Dean had learnt by now that Cas might not be the loudest person, but he doesn't take shit from anyone and will tell anyone off if need be. So, wanting to see Dean ought to be a good sign, right, because if he wanted to chew Dean out or be done with Dean, he'd done so yesterday.

The call connects in the meanwhile, and at the same time, he hears the tell-tale of Cas’ ringtone - the Don't Starve Ragtime - coming from his left. Dean had burst out laughing when he heard it the first time, but he has been hooked on both the game and Shellac music ever since. It was so much Cas it couldn't be any different.

But hearing the ringtone means Cas is _here._ “Hello, Dean,” Cas voice calms Dean immediately, but Cas is _here_ and Dean _can't see him yet_ and so Dean ups his pace and (only almost) runs around the corner, “Heya, Cas” he replies, grinning, phone still perched to his ear and Cas looking up at him with those blue eyes that do things to Dean's stomach.

“I, uh,” Cas is standing less than two paces away, but hasn't disconnected the call, “Waiting at home was boring so, I kinda ended up here.”

‘ _Kinda ended up here, he says_ ’, Dean's inner self squeals in a very manly way, _Kinda ended up here. That's… cute._

“I’ll.. hang up now,” he manages to keep his voice steady and proudly pats his mental shoulder himself. Cas is staring, so Dean stares back. He likes Cas’ eyes. A lot. Sue him.

 

“Aaah, you're meeting with Cas today! Sorry, forget what I said just then!” By now Tajiri has caught up with them, much to Dean's annoyance. She turns to Cas, “Cas, really, if you're at school then please drop by, even if just to show your face.”

Cas smiles. “Well, if a retired third year shows up too often, it'd be annoying, don't you think?”

Oblivious to Dean's discomfort, Cas continues to chitter-chatter with Tajiri; he even ends up promising to come to tomorrow's practise, too, and then they high-five and she's really standing close, and aren't they a bit too close? Cas came to see Dean, not Tajiri, and he should-

 

“Dean?” Cas is looking right at Dean, and possibly saw all the bullcrap that went through his mind play out on his face. What kind of expression did Dean wear? Was he scowling? Frowning? Sad? 

“Jealousy really is scary,” Dean thinks to himself.

By now, the other club members have surrounded them and Dean hears someone cheer at Tajiri proudly telling them that she's the reason Cas will stop by tomorrow. He really likes his teammates, but he wants them gone, pronto. Luckily, they scamper off after a few friendly words.

By then, Dean's mantra of _stay calm, stay calm_ helps to keep a friendly face but there's this little annoying voice that keeps nagging and makes up weird ideas like wrap Cas up into a blanket and steal him away to keep him for himself.

After a beat of silence, Dean clears his throat. “You, uh, sure are popular…” and looks to Cas, who looks dejectedly at the floor.  
“What was the ‘Forget it’ just now?” He uses his fingers to visually add quotation marks and there is a burst of warmth behind Dean's ribcage. Apparently, he takes to long to reply. “Tajiri asked you to forget about something. What was it?”

“Ah, it was... She asked if we could have an early lunch together.” Cas looks away and turns to walk, “I see. You were invited by the charming and beautiful Tajiri. _Don’t_ cheat on me.” He stops and scoffs his left shoe against a small pebble. “Aargh, I’m so hungry I’m overreacting way too much. Let's go eat lunch together.” Looking up to the sky, Cas know he basically laid claim to Dean right now and asked the same question Tajiri did, but with _demand_ because right now, he still has a say with Dean and - there hadn't been a reply. Turning around, Cas intends to ask what Dean wants to eat because he seriously will not be okay if Dean said yes to her. The question never leaves his mouth because Dean is looking at the floor, face flushed pink and biting his lip (Cas would like to do that, too).

“Uh. Dean. Something wrong? Which screw fell loose?”

“Nothing,” Dean is _not_ squeaking, he is _so not_ squeaking, “I’m happy. I’ve said it before, right? I’m the type who likes to be restrained, to be _tied down_.” And then adds, “Rawr.” to it.

Apparently cheeks can hurt really bad form too wide grinning, but Dean doesn't care because this right here feels great. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and sing-songs, “Don’t cheat, he said, don’t cheeeaaat” and jumps, childlike, in front of a flabbergasted looking Cas, leans forward and adds, “Say it again.”

He dies a little inside at how breathtakingly beautiful the rosy colour filling Cas cheeks makes the blue really pop out and he could kiss him right here and now.

“Yo.. You..,” Cas stutters, “You masochist! Let’s go before we get arrested in front of the school gate for indecent behaviour.” Dean is happy. Cas wants him. Cas would not have been okay with Dean saying yes to someone else. He knows that Cas likes Tajiri, so his reaction is not due to disliking her.

 

Which is great, really, because Dean cannot imagine it. To know that even though Cas is here right now with him, to think that tomorrow it will all change? He doesn't want to imagine it. Dean does not want to imagine a week without Cas.

 

They decide to go to Tsering Tashi, their favourite Tibetan restaurant. Dean wonders how they never met there before since Cas swears he stuffs his face there at least once a week. Thankfully the all-you-can-eat menu is available already, but they are early enough to only have to share with a few other patrons - the civilised fight for the yummy food will start in about two hours when shoppers decide to take a break after noon.

After taking a table suspiciously close to the soups, Tashi, the owner, comes over and greets them. They order Yasmine tea and lassi and after a few minutes Dechen, a glowing woman proudly telling the she is expecting and that Tashi will turn into a mother hen in the next few weeks, brings over their drinks and a larger bowl than the ones offered on the menu.

Cas grins and gratefully accepts it with two hands. They congratulate her and ask when she is due and after a few sentences, she pats Cas cheek and says, “enjoy sweetling,” then walks back to the counter. Tashi hugs her, one arm immediately snaking around her still slender waist to rest on the front of her belly.

Dean does not need to wonder for long what the bowl is for; Cas fills the bowl with Thenkthuk almost to the brim and sits down with glee. Smiling, he mumbles a “Bon appetit” in the general direction of Dean and -  and Dean bets his eyes are as big as the soup bowl as Cas _inhales_ the soup within a few minutes, slurping it directly out of the bowl, efficiently hiding half of his face behind it. “Told you he’d do it again,” Dean hears Dechen chirp at her husband who replies, “Yes, beloved, as he always does and as you always do. Come, sit, I’ll make you some tea, you worked enough.” Dean rolls his eyes. Tashi will be worse than with Dechen’s previous pregnancy. She had complained for weeks that whenever she sat down, Tashi made her sit up and slipped a cushion under her, to make her even more comfortable.

Dean loves coming to Tashi’s. The atmosphere is soothing and calm. Usually. Right in front of him Cas is having an affair with the soup.

Cas wasn't kidding. He _loves_ this food. Dean opted for Sha Paley as a starter, but judging by the slurping sounds Cas makes, if he wants to have _any_ Thenthuk for himself he sure as hell needs to be quick about it. Cas is already eying the soup pot, sucking in a wayward noodle. Cas eats four soup bowls before he decides that he’ll hunt down Balep korkhun and he sure is a force to be reckoned with. They talk about this and that, how stupid it is to allow Antman to have his own movie when Black Widow is by far more epic and deserving. After about three hours,  Dean feels he won't be walking but rolling out of the restaurant. It’s almost two in the afternoon, and it would be rude to continue eating anyway.

“I possibly cannot eat anymore, and I positively feel decadent,” Cas groans. “Got any ideas?”  
“Hmm.. just wanna laze around. Would you like to come over? We could pl-”

“No thanks,” Cas interrupts, his mood darkened immediately, “Cassie will be there again, right? At your house.”

It would seem that Cassie and Michael are okay with each other again, Dean muses, so the only truthful answer he can give is, “Yes, She might be there.”  
Cas turns away, a little petulant, and rests his elbow on the armrest, and his chin onto his hand.“Nope, definitely not going.” Dean wants to lean forward and mouth at the sternomastoid straining at Cas’ exposed neck.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. She's just like that to everyone. She really is,” Dean needs to make sure that Cas knows this. Whatever he wanted to say after “She probably doesn't mean any harm,” gets stuck between his vocal chords at the quick flash of -pain?- that flitters across Cas’ face. Did he imagine it?

The restaurant is brimming with sound and the happy chatter of the afternoon crowd, friends and families with kids laughing and talking but their table seems eerily quiet for a couple of seconds. Cas still hasn't looked back at Dean.

“Wanna come over to my place?” Cas mumbles into his hand. It seems that the two seconds Dean needs to process the questions are too long, since Cas rephrases, “Or do you not want to?”

Dean was never invited to Cas’ place before, he thought Cas avoided it altogether. His throat clicks as he opens his mouth to reply, but his heart is beating really hard now and he doesn't trust his voice so Dean decides to nod enthusiastically. By now he must look really stupid, or maybe like an overexcited puppy, which he really is (Sam would have a field day), but _Cas invited him over_.

There is a slight blush to Cas cheeks, barely visible, but he nods, empties his cup of Yasmine tea and the finality with which he sets his cup down onto the table carries a weight Dean cannot pin point to, but Cas is finally looking at him again.

 

“Then it's decided. Let's go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ringtone I refer to comes from a quirky and amazing game, Don't Starve, and I love it. I've used it as my ringtone for about two years, listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXUOhiSvE48) and you can find the game on Steam or via [Klei Entertainment's page](https://www.kleientertainment.com/games/dont-starve).  
> thank all of you who stuck with me. 
> 
> I'm really hungry for some feedback. apart from the horribly irregular posting schedule, is the development too slow? are my sentences too long winded? any constructive critique is appreciated. feel blessed and loved, greetings from Austria.


	11. Quintus, Post Meridiem (Saturday Afternoon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See, Dean is thinking. A lot. And he can feel his palms sweating. Asking someone out is really hard. It’s also very confusing. He did always pay attention to the girls asking him out but it never really did matter so much how to… invite someone to hang out more, do more, kiss and snuggle and hold hands and sneak notes into one’s locker and - ‘Great job, stupid,’ he chastises himself after he almost bumps into Cas, having blindly followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for any spelling errors, I have a migraine or really bad headache. I swear this story will have a good ending.

After paying and quickly leaving after neither Dechen or Tashi even attempted to kinda maybe _try to pretend_ to not fawn other them being red-faced when Dechen asked if they were dating, Cas mentions some weird movie about Stonehenge and the Apocalypse that Jo has been fangirling over and over, and they pay the DVD-Rental store a few blocks over from his house a visit.

Dean looks around and only half hears the cashier tell Cas the rental fee. He automatically starts rummaging through his pockets and notices a folded paper - the movie coupon. It still feels heavy, even though it is so lightweight a soft wind can blow it away. Just like Cas. In a short week, they have become fragile.

“ _For you. You can go with the person you're dating next week_ ,” Cas has said, just the day before, and Dean. Dean cannot. He does not want to go with someone else, he really, really kinda maybe hopes that - he really wants-

“Dean?” Cas is right up in his space waving the DVD cover in front of him. “See, all done. Let's go.” At Dean not moving, Cas tilts his head to the left and honest-to-Metallica scrunches his nose. “What? It’s not that you mind me paying, right?”

Yeah. It’s really not the rental fee, but what can Dean do other than smacking up some stupid half-smile and hope Cas won't realise something is off. Which, really, it shouldn't be. Maybe.

Getting mad at each other, laughing together, being _happy_ \- Dean wants all of it.

They are walking next to each other but Dean would very much like to take Cas’ hand but who knows if this would be all right with Cas after all, the guy told him less than twenty-four hours ago to go to the movies with his next girlfriend as if it was so easy and Dean's head starts spinning a bit thinking about the very real possibility of being Cas-less next week. He’s not sure whether deleting the number to keep himself from calling Cas every day would be more painful knowing that Cas can avoid him in school completely, too.

“-you know, our flat is normal, like, we don't have two stories but it’s comfy.” He catches just enough of the last of Cas’ sentence to be able to grunt some kind of acknowledgment of listening, which he was not.

 

See, Dean is thinking. A lot. And he can feel his palms sweating. Asking someone out is really hard. It’s also very confusing. He did always pay attention to the girls asking him out but it never really did matter so much how to… invite someone to hang out _more_ , do _more_ , kiss and snuggle and hold hands and sneak notes into one’s locker and - ‘Great job, stupid,’ he chastises himself after he almost bumps into Cas, having blindly followed him.

Opening the door and stepping in, Cas mumbles a “welcome” towards somewhere where Dean is still awkwardly standing and trying to subtly sniff at his armpits, sure he’s doused in fear and raging teenage hormones.

Instead, a bouncy girl Dean could only describe as _fluffy_ with an abundance of dark locks and a heart-shaped face bound to break hearts rather sooner than later, prances into the hall with unicorn-socks. “Hey Clarence, how good of you to come home so early. Mom went out and I was about to go ou-” she half-purrs, half pouts, but stops dead in her track when she notices Dean.

Had Cas mentioned a younger sister? Dean thinks he might have, but anyway, he politely says hello and the blush on the girl's face is made only more hilarious by her (approximately) eight poor attempts to squeak “Hello” back. Cas smacks her on the back of her head when he walks by. At least that gets her out of her stupor, but she points an angry little fist at him, “OW, you bampot, that hurt!”

“Dean, Meg, Meg, Dean. Meg. It’s fine if I watch the flat for you, isn't it?” Cas replies nonchalantly, but Dean could swear he mumbles something suspiciously close to the line of just go wherever you want. Meg turns towards Dean, brown eyes wide open. “He hit me, did you see that?”

“Shut up Meg, it’s called love!” Cas doesn't even turn around. “Dean, you coming?”

With a smile and nod towards Meg Dean takes his leave and follows where Cas walked to. The door to the left is open and Cas is slipping off his denim jacket while sitting down cross-legged and this should not be doing the things it does to Dean so of course, his traitorous brain decides it’s high-time for a typical Dean-blurt. “She’s cute.”

Cas raises an eyebrow and his face is a mix of affectionate disgust and a grimace. “What? Who?” He shudders, “ _Where_?”

“Uh, Meg’s your sister, right? I didn’t mean, _cute-hot_ , just cute. You’re kind of alike, her face reminds me of yours, so..” Dean knows by the way Cas stops moving he said something monumentally stupid.

“I see.” Cas’ voice is calm, and deceptively so. “She’s your type then?”

“What? No!” Dean knows he's turning red, and he truly dislikes how easily his freckled skin colours like so.  
“But, you've said it before. That you like my face, or something along the line,” Cas reply is casual, his back turned towards Dean.

“I, uh, I said something like that?”

“Yeah. You did, you did,” Cas swivels around, looking up and his eyes are so beautiful Dean feels a pull forward, he'd like to look into them up really close, “ _Don’t_ forget it.”

Right. So Dean hasn't been over at Cas’ for five minutes and he already messed up. Great.

 

“You know, I dislike it when people tell me they like my face.” Cas’ smile is small, and sad, and he looks a bit dejected, like the words scratch at a small wound that never quite stops scabbing.

“I.. Sorry.” Dean doesn't like this look on Cas at all. Cas should alway be smiling. Or at least not wear a look of hurt on his face. What makes it worse is that it is Dean's fault, and he messed it up and-

“You'd apologise for something you can't remember?” There is a teasing edge to Cas’ voice. He is patting a spot next to him on the floor, already leaning his back onto the bed behind him, reckoning Dean to sit down.

Dean clutches his elbow, looking at his feet. He _hurt_ Cas. That’s kind of the only thought that bounces around in his head, a loud fanfare of You Fucked Up that, bless his heart, Cas seems to notice because he continues, “It’s fine. I'm happy,” and there is a tint of pink on Cas cheeks. Still, he needs to rectify his error, so he kind of kneels, kind of plops down next to Cas, his right hand dangerously close to Cas’ knee, and blurts, “Not just your face, you know. I-, uh,” _I really like you._

“Dean,” Cas’ eyes are a bit lidded, and a very gentle look is directed at Dean, “it’s okay. I was teasing. Let’s watch the movie, shall we?”

 

The movie is terrible. Horrible, actually. About half an hour has passed and Dean would have left the cinema by now. The main actor is hot, Dean admits to himself, but the movie is terrifyingly boring. He opens his mouth to say as much but is beaten by Cas’ statement of, “This is a truly horribly made movie, don't you think?”

“Yeah. You wanted to watch it, though. Maybe it’ll get better? You know how some movies are really slow in the beginning but there's hope, right?”

 

After another torturous twenty minutes, Cas can feel his left eyelid twitch. A look to his left confirms that Dean is barely holding it together - not even making fun of the movie made it sufferable - so he grabs his phone, speed-dials Jo and as soon as the call connects, he yells, “Give me back my rental fee!” into the speaker and disconnects. He turns around and presses his face into the mattress. Then he groans.

“Who did you just call? Don't tell me you yelled at the clerk at the rental store?” Dean prods.

Cas turns his head a bit to glance at Dean, and after a beat replies with, “Jo.” while his phone chirps.

Grunting, Cas shows the received message

> Don’t tell me you actually borrowed the movie I told you about. Ahahahha told u I’d get back at u d=(^0^)=b

Dean takes a moment to decipher the weird smiley (he thinks it’s Jo giving herself a thumbs up). “So she fooled you?”

“Yeah. Lately, I seem to keep being fooled by her,” the response is mumbled but enough to spike Deans interest.  
“Did something else happen?”

Cas glances at Dean, the memory of kissing those lips flashing while Jo’s words of _Dean won’t touch you unless it’s absolutely necessary_ are on endless loop and he can hardly blame Dean for doing this because he kinda maybe really did enjoy it and, anyway, Cas does not want to sound like a petulant child because he _kinda maybe_ would want to relive this sensation.

He’s been silent long enough, apparently, because a soft-spoken, “Cas?” takes him back. He’s glad he is not facing Dean because he could not for the life of him recall what his face looks like but he’s rather sure he has been frowning.

“Being bored makes me sleepy.”

Dean snorts. “You say that at least once a day, sleepy head.”

“Well, I can't help it. Yesterday I didn't really sleep.”

“You? Not sleeping? What were you doing, then?” Dean cannot imagine Cas not sleeping, the guy could likely sleep through an earthquake rocking a solid 11 on the Richter scale.

Castiel does not reply immediately, instead, he turns around towards Dean, not looking up. “I was thinking.”

His eyes snap up and a jolt spikes along Dean's spine as he is subjugated to the full force of determination apparent in Cas’ eyes. A whisper of the thought _He’ll break up with me_ barely forms when Cas adds, “About you.”

Dean has rarely heard his heart beating in his ears except a few times when he was with Cassie, but even then it had not been this intense. Something pulls at his stomach, and there is a heaviness behind his tongue, and he is pretty sure that he is staring at Cas.

“And I think I understand. I really am thick-headed, aren't I?” the other boy continues, and a warm hand with soft skin slides along Dean's jaw and Cas slides close, leaning into Dean and everything stops right there when Cas’ lips connect with Deans. A quiet whimper escapes Dean's throat, but the hand is still there, thumb caressing his cheek so the only logical next step is to raise his own hand and take hold of Cas’ when he starts pulling his hand back, and to lean forward. Somewhere a bird is chirping, and he does hear a bus driving by, but Dean is utterly not caring because this right here feels so nice and good and he wants it. He knows he is grabby, literally and figuratively, but maybe it's not too bad because Cas is also holding onto his forearm and the hold is stronger than truly necessary. It might have been a short two seconds or a happy fifteen minutes, but the magic is broken when Dean's phone, unmuted, bleats through the relative silence of the room. Dean chooses to ignore it and Cas is happy to continue their impromptu makeout session. The call ends, but the phone almost immediately starts ringing again Cas pulls back, reluctantly, “It might be important, take the call.” Dean is still gasping a bit for air (Cas can be really pushy when kissing) and reaches into his bag to pull out the disruptive, offending piece of technology. The caller ID says it’s Cassie calling. He rejects the call.

Cas eyes him, and Dean would swear the hesitance he hears in Cas’ voice, “Why don’t you answer it?”

The ringing starts again, and Dean quickly rejects the call, again. Hoping for the best, he pulls out the movie tickets and opens his mouth but is cut off, “Dean. The call. Who was it from?”

And Dean knows that Cas is not so pushy, or rude, but replying it was Cassie would likely make things worse. Picking at a cuticle on his thumb, Dean doesn't look at Cas and thus does not see Cas flinch. “I don't know. It was an unknown number.”

Exhaling, he extends his hand holding the movie voucher. “Next week. I want to go with you.”

Cas remains silent, not looking up, and Dean notices with some pride and fear that he marked Cas, a small love bite on his neck. The spot cannot be hidden under a collar.  
“As school colleagues, right?” Cas voice is small, and he worries his lower lip between his teeth. Dean's phone starts ringing again, this time really the only sound in the room. Cas huffs, drags his hand across his face and grunts, “Answer it. I’ll go return the movie, so you can have your privacy.”

He gets up quickly and walks straight past Dean, not looking back.

Dean scrambles to his feet, “I’ll go wi-”  
“It’s fine. I’ll go alone. Take the damn call.” Cas cuts him off and not so gently closes the door behind him. Dean stares at the closed door. Again. He got his hopes up only for them to be crushed, didn’t he? Is Cas playing around? The front door slams shut, and Dean slumps back against the bed. The movie voucher lies forlorn on the floor, the sun shining in full on the glossy print. It’s a worthless paper because it’s for two people and Dean really only has one person he wants to share it with.  
Cas doesn't return as quick as Dean thought he would, so unlocks his phone (pointedly ignoring the four missed calls from a certain person he is still kinda mad at) and speed-dials Cas number.

The call does not connect. After a few minutes, he calls again, but Cas does not pick up. Dean cannot hear a phone ringing in his near vicinity, so Cas likely took it with him.

He notices that the shadow of the middle window frame cuts a dark shadow on the voucher. How long has Cas been gone?

What if something happened? But can he leave the flat unlocked? And where would he go looking, sure, he knows where the shop is but- The sound of the front door being closed and locked surprises him, and he practically pounces through the door to be greeted by a high pitched shriek of Meg.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were Cas,” Dean says, to continue “Welcome back.” Cas sister side-eyes him and fidgets a bit. “Cas... is not here?” She doesn't look at Dean but leans back. Crap, is she afraid of him? Dean processes quickly that Meg and he haven't spoken two sentences and from his girl friends Dean has heard some rather disturbing stories about some guys. Meg is being cautious, most likely. After all, Dean is a guy she doesn't know, and she locked the door, not expecting to have the company of _a guy she doesn't know_.

“Yeah, he went to the rental store to return a DVD? I’ll go look for him,” Dean smiles what he hopes will be understood as friendly and not predatory, and immediately can tell Meg relaxes, “I’ll just get my stuff and be outta your hair.”  
He grabs his bag and stops to pick up the voucher, too.

“Sorry about my brother. He sometimes does not stop to think about others,” Meg starts, then adds quickly, “I mean, he's not selfish in a bad way, but like, more an airhead? I mean, he's not _mean_ -mean, you know?” By then Dean is out in the complex’ hallway. “I know. It's troubling, yeah.” He winks. “But that’s what makes him Cas.” Meg nods, smiles and says “Yeah, he's an idiot. Seeya, Dean!” and closes the door after Dean replies in kind.

 

The glass door slides shut behind him, and Dean is engulfed in the head of the late afternoon sun taking leave and painting the sky in hues of orange, pink and yellow. He stretches and turns to his left, towards the shop.

  
If he had looked up and ahead towards the pedestrian crossing over the four lane street where the station lies behind, he would have seen Cas, watching him.


	12. Quintus, Vesperum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You like to say that I’m a masochist. So much, in fact, that I’ve come to think that way myself.” A slight huff tells him that Cas is listening. Good.   
> “Where are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about typos or obviously horrendous errors. I needed to get this out of my system. worked myself to death this week.

The sun is setting, and beats her warmth against Dean's back, the city’s just calm enough before the great rush of Saturday Night Fever demands those who want to party to leave home and the comfortable silence a lovely day on the weekend provides is accompanied by birds chirping and a few cars passing by.

 

This is the third time. ‘If it doesn't connect this time,’ Dean promises himself, ‘I’ll just go home.” By now, the continuous beep-beep-beep is getting really annoying. The phone rings, but doesn't connect. Huffing, Dean lowers his hand and his thumb almost taps the disconnect button but then the screen reads what he had hoped for: 00:01 and continues to count.

 

Cas on the other side is silent, but Dean waits a bit. He knows Cas sometimes takes a couple of minutes to gather his thoughts. Dean does too. Especially with Cas. 

A car passes, and then Dean breaks the silence.

“You like to say that I’m a masochist. So much, in fact, that I’ve come to think that way myself.” A slight huff tells him that Cas is listening. Good.

“Where are you?” Dean's question is met with another silence, and then, “Were you like that to everyone? Were you?”

Dean thinks he can hear the metro passing near Cas. He turns, continuing towards the station, and away from the rental. If Cas doesn't want to see him today - which, as painful as it might be, bears no reason for Dean to search for Cas, not today at least. He processed this quickly, but which ever eloquent reply he (kinda had not) planned out after “Huh?” is cut short by Cas continuing.

 

“Like. When I heard it? It felt kinda odd for someone to be able to break up with someone so easily after just a week. It’s honestly kind of absurd. But still. I wondered why not a single girl you broke up ever spoke badly of you afterwards.” Cas inhales loudly through his mouth and exhales through his nose. Dean can see the bridge, and he thinks he might see a familiar head with hair sticking every which way. Dean walks faster.

 

“And then I wondered. What skill did you use? It kept me thinking. And.. and I think I've got it. You make the person you're with feel good.Or rather, you’re really - I dunno. Comfortable to be with. You are.” 

Dean swallows around a small lump forming in this throat. He does remember the way the girls that had asked him out did tell him that they f _ eel good with him _ and that he’s  _ so sweet _ and it was a bit of an ego-thing, maybe, but this right here, Cas telling him he understands, telling him that _ Cas feels good with Dean _ ? He'd love to preen but at the same time, this is just the crap that got them confused in the first place. Dean enjoys being with Cas, too. He wants to continue to enjoy being with Cas. Not as friends.

“I see,” he attempts to keep his tone light and teasing but Cas’ hearing is finely tuned, so all Dean can do is hope that Cas will have noticed Dean is walking, and maybe attribute any waver in Dean's voice to uneven ground. “So I am so easy to understand. Well, but even then, Cas, you left me so suddenl-”

 

“Well, I was annoyed.” Cas deadpans. 

Whoa. Talk about polar wind and stabbing words. Dean had thought it had been a rather nice make-out session. 

Dean ups his tempo, only a few more steps to take until he’s at the upper level of the crossing. He really, really, really hopes he’s seen Castiel.

“I was annoyed because I cannot stand even little things, and my head overreacts to scenarios that might or might not happen,” Cas voice is very clear, each word pronounciated with utmost care.

Taking the last steps in sets of three, ignoring the burning in his thighs, Dean locks eyes with Cas just as the boy ends, “so I get annoyed with myself.”

 

His attempt to calm his frantic breathing does not at all help the drum roll Dean's heart decided to do when he finally caught Cas. He doesn't crowd him in, this time, but they’re less than an arm's length apart. Looking to his right, Dean can just about note that Cas’ positioned himself so that he not only can see only the intersection but what Dean is pretty much a hundred percent sure are the glass doors to Cas’ building. Had the dumbnut waited to see how long it would take Dean to leave? 

Leaning way too casually against the railing, Cas wastes no time. “So I wondered what I should do.”

A tightness takes root in Dean's stomach, reluctance pushes a weak “...About what..?” against his will through his teeth. Cas smile is small.

“Stuff like.. “But” and “if only” and - well, or “afterwards”,”Cas air-quotes and it's way too fucking cute. Pushing himself up and away from the railing, he turns towards Dean. “Thinking about all that stuff messed me up.”

This sinking feeling, Dean hates. Really, really, dislikes it. 

“But,” Cas claps his hands as if to break himself out of a thought, “I understood, today.” He straightens his shoulders, and faces Dean properly.   
“I’m not suited to these kinds of things.”

A painful thought of _ Somehow I had hoped even when next week comes around, it’d work out _ before Cas’ hand is outstretched, his face calm and he is looking at pointedly at Dean.    
“The preview tickets. Give them to me.”

Dean exhales. He knows Cas’ phone number, and his mail and e-mail address too. 

 

It’s not like it’ll all turn to ashes.

 

With reluctance, he hands the piece of paper to Cas’ outstretched hand. Somewhere a voice hums no-no-no but he chooses to ignore it.

 

Who takes it, looks at it hard, and starts ripping into pieces. The sound of paper tearing is the only thing Dean hears, although he knows that somewhere cars are honking or people laugh. 

 

But this, this is a completely different form of silence.

‘ _ I really thought that it'd be fine if I just worked hard to get closer little by little, again _ ,’ Dean thinks.

 

Cas has finished tearing up the voucher, and opens his hand to let the wind blow them away watching them float to the ground somewhere. 

  
“So, with all that I’ve come to a decision,” Cas’ gazes has snapped back to Dean who feels way more empty than he thought would be the case after a week.

  
“I decided that these tickets aren't needed anymore.” Cas ends, and walks by Dean, walks home, and his goodbye is a simple.

  
“See you tomorrow then, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you in enough pain yet?


	13. Sextus (Sunday)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life sucks, Dean decides. He woke up with a really bad feeling. Today, it all ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it, folks.

Training on next day went very separately for the two boys. Castiel glided through the water like a fish, seemingly without any disturbed thought.

Dean bumped twice into a colleague. One of those times, he headbutted Ronniy's crotch who was not very happy with the outcome, to keep the story short and PG-13 rated

Bobby whistled him out of the water rather quickly and put him on maintenance duty. Dean might have heard his trainer mumble something about _not wanting to do damn CPR_ (for which Dean was grateful) and _damn idjits who can't be bothered to concentrate once they decide to show up_.

 

Dean knows that Bobby might have a rough outer edge but in truth is a kind man, but it still hit pretty hard - failing, _again_.

‘Although,’ supposed Dean, ‘my failing in technique really are due to not showing up regularly.’ He does agree with Bobby there, but it bugs him that the voice his thinks this in is suspiciously similar to Cas’.

Cas, who told Dean, “I’m not suited to these kind of things.”

Cas, who looked straight at Dean, hand outstretched, and simply said, “The preview tickets. Give them to me.”

Cas, who ripped the movie voucher to shreds (and, in truth, a bit of Dean's heart and self-esteem, too)

And who, without further delay, added another stab to his display of disinterest.

Because, Cas told him that he “decided that these tickets aren't needed anymore,” passed by Dean without so much as breaching Dean's personal space and simply said - not even looking back! - into the wind, “See you tomorrow then, Dean.”

And now.

Now the dude is as relaxed as Ash on his happy-mary-jane-days, manages to beat his best time by almost two seconds and then is witness to the humiliation of Dean being whistled out.

 

Life sucks, Dean decides. He woke up with a really bad feeling. Today, it all ends.

 

***

 

Cas is a bit terrified.

After thinking it through, read: hardly sleeping because he kept turning and tossing around in bed until Meg knocked on his door and told him to settle down, finally - she took one look at him, and though his face was half hidden in darkness, the stream of light shining through the crack of the door was enough for his little sister to curl up next to him and gently scratched his half-sleep matted hair, along the soft hair at the base of his neck until he fell asleep.

He fell asleep thinking that he has the best little sister in the world.

When he woke up, it was to her phone being pressed very close to his face and giggling.

The ensuing hunt through their flat ended when their mother simply put down her cup of coffee and said, “No Game of Thrones, Sense8 or Mr. Robot for two weeks if something breaks or falls down,” and calmly proceeded her Sunday morning routine of reading.

Cas smiles, remembering the scene. They had stopped chasing each other, and when passing their mother, both dropped a kiss to her cheek. Ma had already gone to the local market.

Cas loves his family and defends them viciously, and looks forward to them meeting Dean. When his mothers gang up on someone, they really make the world spin. Add Meg to the list and it’s the party of the millennium.

 

But that had been at breakfast. Now he’s listening to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Zdg-AMv8tw Wardruna’s Runaljod: Gap Var Ginnunga and waits for Dean.

The last teammates are trickling in after showering, but not yet Dean. From his own experience, Cas knows that Dean will help Bobby and the ones on regular maintenance duty to clean everything up and will run a bit later than the others.

A few of his mates are already putting on clothes and giggling about some Poke A Man Go or _whatever_ , so he seizes the chance.

“Who's in charge of the key today?” He gently pokes Thom with his left foot.

“Uh, I think it’s Muhammad’s turn. Yo, Mohi,” Thom jerks his head around, looking for his friend. “Dude, you got the keys?”

“Zhìwěi, man, ask Zhìwěi,” Mohi lazily waves Thom away and grins, “me and ma bros got some wild things to catch, Zhì was kind enough to let us.”

Zhìwěi immediately interrupts with a friendly, “Shut up, Mohi, I am adamant that you all collaborated to make me lose out on this bet!” but there is no malice in his voice. Maybe a tad bit of disappointment for having to wait up.

 

Maybe Cas can use this to his advantage. “Uh, about that? I wanted to talk to Dean for a bit, so I’ll be waiting anyway. You mind giving me the key?”

“Really? Oh, Cassie, thanks!” Zhìwěi exclaims, basically throwing the key to the locker room at Cas, “Now I can beat their asses raw with Pokémon!” He shoulders his bag and hollers, “Yo, bastards, wait up, yo!” and runs out.

 

“Calling Dean out like that, I wonder what it’s about. Think he’s gonna scold him?” There is a soft whisper from somewhere to Cas’ left. “Jeesh I hope not,” a second voice chimes in, “dude’s had a hard time today obviously.”

“Crap, be quiet, he’s here,” the first hisses.

Cas looks to the door where a slightly distressed Dean stares unabashedly at Cas.

Great. So Dean did misunderstand then.

“You guys over there,” he points towards the not so subtly whispering first years, “Don’t read too much into it.”

 

When the door closes behind the last teammates, it’s just Dean and Cas and the Cas watches the late afternoon sun, feeling her warmth on his face as he leans against the windowsill.

“What happened? You were all over the place,” he prompts into the silent room.

A soft, “I’m sorry.” is the only reply.

Exhaling loudly, Cas starts, “Even if you apologise-” but then he decides this is just like lecturing Dean, and the first years were right. Dean obviously hasn't had a great day.

Which makes Cas worry.

Which is something he might want to share with Dean. So he does just that.

“Even if you say sorry, this is not what I meant. I’m worried.”

No reply. Dean’s back is turned. Dean's never been this distant.

A lump in Cas throat constricts his breath for a second. Is this the break up?

Does it end with the last day of school, which, only by luck of them having training this particular weekend, stretched so far?

Even when they just started dating, even Dean's nothing of a reply had been warmer.

 

He remembers Jo. She had said, when Dean broke it off his words were, “‘I cannot see myself falling in love with you. Let’s break up.” Cas’ stomach fills with dread. No, no, not like this. He hasn't prepared himself for such an outcome.

“I can only be all over the place,” Dean huffs and turns around. Even when he looks at Cas directly, he is not seeing him.

“You were the paragon of practise, calm and precise in movement. Hell, you even managed to up your time.” Dean shakes his head.

“In the meantime, my head was all funky and messed up.”

 

It is exactly this moment, Cas will probably remember for the rest of his life when he decides that the perfect response to this is to ask, “Did something happen with Cassie?”

“Why do you bring her up?” the reply is immediate, and a little bit aggressive.

“Why, you ask.. Because of the pattern until no-”

By the way Dean's shoulders tense up, he expects anything but what comes next. An angry glare accompanied by a voice utterly even and just with this, he feels worse than he would if Dean would actually yell at him.

“Tell me, Cas. When did I ever think about her when I’m with you? Huh?” This time, when Dean breaches Cas’ personal space, his heart is beating a bit faster, but not with the positive aspect of a bit of hunting-domincance-display, but with facing an angry Dean.

 

“Fuck this,” Dean breathes out, steps back and inhales deeply. He doesn't look at Cas, looks out the window.

“Why don't we leave? I want to talk to you about something, properly.”

 

They even go the fricken _park_. Is Dean always so formal when he breaks up with someone, Cas muses.

Crap. A week ago he hardly knew more of him than his first name and that he rarely shows up to swimming practise. A few days later, here, he knows his favourite song, favourite bands, most disliked food sort, how Dean snores slightly taking an afternoon food coma induced nap with his head resting in Cas’ lap, the softness of his lips.

And he _likes_ it. He likes _Dean_.

“Cas. Listen.” Dean's voice is patient again, and his eyes are soft. The sun's light makes his hair more golden than brown, and Cas’ heart dips just a little lower.

“So, I uh. From tomorrow on? I still want to go home together with you. And hang out occasionally. Like. Just once in a while is fine. I..”

Dean tries to remember the rest of his speech. When he learnt it by heart, his mind also kindly provided the best outcome. Cas, saying yes, and allowing Dean to stay at least a little while longer.

 

Cas is looking at his feet. “No,” he says. Dean is close to throwing up.

“No,” Cas’ head snaps up with the force of the word, “That is troublesome. To have that sort of - of- of _compromise_ with you? I’m not willing.”

The torn voucher. So Dean was right, yesterday had that kind of meaning. The tiny pieces of paper fluttering to the ground will probably make Dean hate falling snow in the following winter, because he really doesn't want this to end but it takes two and the other, the most important person, is not willing.

“So,” Cas voice might be trembling, but Dean's heartbeat is in his throat and he can feel the pulse of his frantic heartbeat rushing blood through his ears, so he’s not sure.  
“When does it end? The one week with you?”

Dean tries to read Cas, but the boy is wearing a mask of calmness. Dean's hands feel cold and he really would like to hold Cas’ hand. Instead, he puts his hands inside his pockes, damns his sweaty palms, and swallows.

If he's given the choice, he might be able to turn it around to his favour still.

  
“It ends whenever you decide it ends,” he croaks and just maybe winces at how broken his voice sounds.

 

“All right,” Cas glances at his phone and holds the lit screen towards Dean.

It’s 5.58 PM.

“Since it’s a good time, how about 6 o’clock? Here, I’ll set the alarm.”

Dean bites his tongue for fear of a whimper escaping him. He won't beg. Not immediately. Later. He’ll beg later.

 

Cas finally looks up and straight at Dean. “I couldn't fall in love with you, let’s break up.” and Dean's world crumbles a bit more. Hell, he’ll beg now. He thought saying the words was painful, but being on the receiving end? Burns like a bitch.

 

A few cars can be heard in the distance, birds chirp, but Dean only hears his blood rushing and then the beep-beep-beep of Cas’ alarm. It’s over.

But Cas smiles, and Dean is _very_ confused now.

“I’m glad you didn't say that. I heard you say it every time. So,” Cas steps forward, “this is technically a new week then, isn't it? Kind of?” and grabs Dean's right hand, taking another step.

 

“Dean. Go out with me.”

His mouth is catching flies, Dean is sure, but he manages to bleat a weak, “What?” before Cas crowds him even more.

“Because I really like you. And I don't want to return to being school friends come tomorrow, any maybe hang out occasionally. I don't think I could manage it, even if I had any intention to try.”

“Which is why I play dirty, and ask you now. Because if I play fair and abide by those rules you made up, those who have been waiting will put me at a disadvantage. I don’t want another one being chosen by you.”

“Uh, Cas, wait-”

“And none of that ‘weekly lover’ game,” Cas drones on with his awully adorable air quotes, “or any other of that make-believe crap. I want to properly date you. Not with a time limit.” Cas’ posture adjusts slightly, and Dean can see the vulnerability pour through when Cas’ eyes shift downwards again.

 

“I’ll of course wait properly for your reply but if you go out with someone else before giving me a proper answer...”

 

The end of Cas’s sentence (or threat) is muffled because Dean is hugging the crap out of his _steady boyfriend_ and a week ago he might have thought it’d be weird to hug someone his own height but he actually enjoys it.

 

He’s sure he’ll always enjoy it.

 

“You beat me to it,” he teases, trying to lighten the last sour notes of their misunderstanding, “I really like you, too. And I’ve struggled to properly put that into words because to me holding your hand is easier than saying I like you but, there, I said it, and I’ll continue to say it whenever you want to hear it.”

 

Cas bonks his head against Dean's shoulder. Dean sniffs. “Crap,” Cas voice is really trembling now, and he is clutching at Dean's sweater, “I’m really happy.”

  


*******

 

The next morning, a chirp wakes Cas.

Grumbling, he fumbles for his phone. Maybe squinting at it will put into silent mode. When he unlocks it, he can feel the speed of his blush battling with how far his mouth can stretch into a grin.

 

 

> I may have woken you up with this message, but if you don't get up soon, you’ll be late.

 

His face is hurting from smiling so much, and he and rushes to be on time. Even on the few occasions they now, years later, have to sleep apart from each other - Dean is, after all, sometimes gone a few days each year for work related meetings, he’ll always send Cas a good morning message.

 

And each morning, Cas replies with the same message he has sent all those years ago.

 

 

> You woke me up. Thanks.

  
Only, by now, he also adds:

 

>   
> Love you, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank all of you who stuck around. I am sorry for the slow-as-molasses updates and grateful for your kind words.
> 
> tell me what you think. tell me how I made you feel. 
> 
> ***prostrates herself* PLEEASSE**  
>  give me some feedback what I can/should do better. constructive feedback really helps the morale. hits don't count. feeling like - apart from a very precious few - I write into the wind is kinda demoralising :D
> 
> also, remember: always stay true to yourself, and love yourself. you're worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based on a super adorable manga by Tachibana Venio and Takarai Rihito: Seven Days. I read it a few years ago but found out it actually was turned into a Live Action Play last summer, all inclusive with innocently awful acting, but that’s because I could visualise it as Anime, perhaps, but not L.A.P. Anyway! I reread the manga and gushed how adorable it is, again, so I needed it in Destiel form, for obvious scientific reasons of happy squealing and yummy fluff. Find the Trailers for the Live Action Movie [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zk1yjhHBnFY) (Part One: Monday to Thursday) and [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3ykvK0vCWQ) (Part Two: Friday, Saturday, Sunday). It’ fandubbed, the acting is worse than for some other dorama but if you enjoy it even a little bit, please support both the authors and the movie if you have access to either the tankoubon or the DVDs.
> 
> comments, feedback and kudos appreciated.


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